HELLAS 


KVTHOROF 

CAPTAIN 
JANVKRY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

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A  C.  CurmcUcr 


JIM  OF  HELLAS 


THE  TROUBLING  OF 
BETHESDA  POOL 


Books  by  Laura  E.  Richards. 


"  Mrs.  Richards  has  made  for  herself  a  little  niche  apart  in  the  literary 
world,  from  her  delicate  treatment  of  New  England  village  life."—  Boston 
Post. 


JIM  OF  HELLAS;  or,  IN  DURANCE  VILE,  and  a  companion  story, 
BETHESDA  POOL.    i6mo,  50  cents. 

MARIE.    i6mo,  50  cents. 

"  Seldom  has  Mrs.  Richards  drawn  a  more  irresistible  picture,  or  framed 
one  with  more  artistic  literary  adjustment."—  Boston  Herald. 

"  A  perfect  literary  gem." — Boston  Transcript. 


N  ARCISSA,  and  a  companion  story,  IN  VERONA.    i6mo.  cloth,  50  cents. 


life." — New  York  World. 


MELODY.    The  Story  of  a  Child.     i6mo,  cloth,  50  cents. 

"Had  there  never  been  a  'Captain  January,'  'Melody'  would  easily 
take  first  place." — Boston  Times. 

"  The  quaintly  pretty,  touching,  old-fashioned  story  is  told  with  perfect 
grace ;  the  few  persons  who  belong  to  it  are  touched  in  with  distinctness 
and  with  sympathy." — Milwaukee  Sentinel. 

SAME.    Illustrated  Holiday  Edition.  With  thirty  half-tone  pictures  from 
drawings  by  Frank  T.  Merrill.    410,  cloth,  #1.25. 

CAPTAIN  JANUARY.     i6mo,  cloth.  50  cents. 

A  charming  idyl  of  New  England  coast  life,  whose  success  has  been  very 
remarkable.  One  reads  it,  is  thoroughly  charmed  by  it.  tells  others,  and 
so  its  fame  has  been  heralded  by  its  readers,  until  t  >  day  it  is  telling  by  the 
thousands,  constantly  enlarging  the  circle  of  its  delighted  admirers. 

SAME.    Illustrated  Holiday  Edition.  With  thirty  half-tone  pictures  from 
drawings  by  Frank  T.  Merrill.    4to,  cloth,  $1.25. 

WHEN  I  WAS  YOUR  AGE.    4to,  cloth,  gilt  top,  |i.z$. 

The  title  most  happily  introduces  the  reader  to  the  charming  home-life 
of  Dr.  Howe  and  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  during  the  childhood  of  the 
author. 

GLIMPSES  OF    THE    FRENCH    COURT.    Sketches    from    French 
History.    Illustrated  with  a  series  of  portraits  in  etching  and  photo 
gravure.    Square  i2mo,  cloth,  #1.50. 
With  true  literary  touch,  she  gives  us  the  story  of  some  of  the  salient 

figures  of  this  remarkable  period. 

NAUTILUS.    A    very    interesting    story,  with  illustrations;  uniquely 
bound,  small  quarto,  75  cents. 

FIVE  MINUTE  STORIES.     A  charming  collection  of  short  poems  and 
clever  stories  for  children. 


Estes  Sr  Lauriat,  Publishers,  Boston. 


JIM    OF    H  ELLAS 

OH 
IN  DURANCE   VILE 


BETHESDA     POOL 


BY 

LAURA   E.  RICHARDS 

AUTHOR  OF  "CAPTAIN  JANUARY,"  "MELODY,"  "QUEEN  HILDEOARDE,' 
"FIVE -MINUTE  STORIES,"  "WHEN  I  WAS  YOUR  AGE," 

"NARCISSA,"   "MARIE,"   "NAUTILUS." 


Copyright,  1895, 

BY  ESTES  &  LAURIAT 

All  rights  reserved 


Typography  and  Printing  by 

C.  H.  Simonds  <&*  Co. 

Electrotyping  by  Geo.  C.  Scott  6*  Sons 

Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


fS 


TO   MY 

IBcar  Brother, 

HENRY    MARION    HOWE, 

THIS    VOLUME 

IS   AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED. 


661662 


JIM  OF  HELLAS 


JIM    OF    HELLAS 


Part  L 

T^VERYONE  knows  the  Island  ;  it  is  not  neces- 
-*— '  sary  to  name  it.  With  its  rolling  downs,  its 
points,  its  ponds,  its  light-houses,  and  above  all,  its 
town, — who  does  not  know  the  Island?  Some  day 
I  shall  write  a  story  about  the  downs,  the  billowy 
acres  of  gold  on  russet,  russet  on  gold,  wonderful 
to  see, —  but  this  story  is  about  the  town. 

The  town  has  its  nominal  government,  like  other 
towns;  its  selectmen,  and  its  town-meeting,  and 
other  like  machinery ;  but  everybody  knows  that  the 
real  seat  of  government  lies  in  the  Upper  House. 
The  meetings  of  this  republican  House  of  Lords  are 
held  in  the  best  room  of  "  Bannister's,"  the  one  inn 
of  the  town.  It  is  a  pleasant,  roomy  old  structure, 
built  in  the  Island  fashion,  with  wide  windows  and 
plenty  of  them,  and  with  a  railed  platform  on  its  flat- 
topped  roof,  from  which,  in  former  days,  the  women 


10  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

of  the  house  used  to  watch  for  the  coming  of  the 
whaling-fleet. 

There  is  little  watching  now  on  the  Island.  No 
ships  come  into  that  wonderful  harbour,  once  thronged 
with  sails.  The  great  wharves  rot  silently  and  fall 
apart ;  a  few  old  hulks  rot  quietly  beside  them.  Two 
or  three  fishing-smacks,  a  coal-schooner  or  two,— 
these  are  all  one  sees  now  from  the  roof  or  the  win 
dows  of  Bannister's. 

But  the  men  who  sit  together  in  the  upper  room 
still  look  out  of  the  windows  a  great  deal,  because 
from  them  they  can  see  the  harbour,  and  beyond  it  the 
sea;  and  the  sea  is  what  they  love  best  to  look  at, 
for  the  greater  part  of  their  lives  has  been  spent  on 
it.  Old  sea-captains, — it  needs  but  one  glance  to  tell 
of  what  the  Upper  House  is  composed:  Men  with 
faces  that  might  have  been  carved  out  of  mahogany, 
wrinkled  and  seamed  and  beaten  into  strange  lines 
by  wind  and  weather;  with  gray  or  white  hair,  for 
the  most  part,  and  shaggy  beards,  yet  with  keen, 
bright  eyes  which  are  used  to  looking,  and,  what  is 
not  always  the  same  thing,  to  seeing  what  they  look 
at. 

Though  most  of  them  go  to  sea  no  more,  they 
keep  with  care  their  sea-going  aspect ;  they  wear  pea- 
jackets  with  huge  horn  buttons,  heavy  sea-boots,  and 
never  fail  to  don  their  sou'westers  in  bad  weather. 


JIM   OF  HELLAS.  11 

The  room  in  which  they  sit  is  well  suited  to  them. 
On  the  broad  window-seats  lie  spy-glasses  and  tele 
scopes  of  all  kinds.  The  walls  arc  hung  with  sea- 
trophies. 

Here  is  a  piece  of  plank  transfixed  by  the  sharp 
blade  of  a  sword-fish;  there,  a  pair  of  walrus-tusks; 
there,  again,  the  beautiful  horn  of  the  narwhal,  like 
a  wonderful  lance  of  ivory,  fit  weapon  for  King 
Olaf  or  Eric  the  Red.  In  the  doorway  stands  a 
whale's  jaw,  a  great  arch  ten  feet  high,  under  which 
all  must  pass  with  thoughts  of  Jonah.  As  for 
corals  and  shells,  there  is  no  end  to  them,  for  the 
upper  room  is  a  museum  as  well  as  a  place  of  con 
vention,  and  here  the  captains  love  to  bring  their 
choicest  treasures,  keeping  only  the  second-best  to 
adorn  the  chimney-piece  of  the  home-parlour. 

In  a  great  arm-chair,  facing  a  seaward  window, 
sits  the  patriarch  of  the  Upper  House,  old  Abram 
Bannister.  His  grandfather  had  built  the  inn  itself, 
his  grandsons  now  keep  it.  Every  morning,  winter 
and  summer,  Jake  and  Bill  "hist"  the  old  captain 
out  of  bed,  put  him  in  his  chair,  and  wheel  him  into 
the  great  room;  then  they  give  him  a  spy-glass  to 
hold  in  his  hand,  and  leave  him  till  dinner-time. 
The  captains  begin  to  straggle  in  about  eight  o'clock, 
when  their  morning  chores  are  done.  They  greet 
the  white  old  man  with  never-failing  cordiality;  he 


12  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

is  the  pride  of  the  Upper  House.  They  are  never 
tired  of  asking  him  how  old  he  is,  nor  of  hearing 
him  reply  in  his  feeble,  eheery  pipe,— 

"  Ninety-nine  year,  and  risin'  a  hundred." 

He  sleeps  a  good  deal  of  the  day,  and,  on  waking, 
never  fails  to  cry  out,  "  Thar'  she  blows ! " 

Whereupon,  one  of  the  captains  promptly  replies, 
"  Where  away  ?  "  and  the  patriarch  says,  — 

"  Weather  bow  !  "  and  straightway  forgets  all  about 
it,  and  plays  with  his  spy-glass. 

When  the  captains  are  assembled  in  sufficient 
number,  they  discuss  the  affairs  of  the  town,  talk 
over  this  or  that  question,  and  decide  what  the 
"  se-leckmen  "  ought  to  do  about  it. 

Woe  to  the  selectmen  who  should  dare  to  oppose 
the  decision  of  the  Upper  House !  Something  dread 
ful  would  happen  to  them;  but,  as  they  never  have 
opposed  it,  one  cannot  tell  what  form  the  punishment 
would  take. 

Now  it  fell,  on  a  day,  that  the  captains  were  sitting 
together  spinning  yarns,  as  was  their  custom  when 
business  was  over.  The  present  and  the  immediate 
future  provided  for,  it  was  their  delight  to  plunge 
into  the  past,  and  bring  up  the  marvellous  treasures 
hidden  in  that  great  sea.  Captain  Zeno  Pye  was 
telling  about  the  loss  of  the  "  Sabra "  in  the  year 
1807.  His  father  had  been  on  the  vessel,  and  Cap- 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  13 

tain  Zcno  sometimes  forgot  that  it  was  not  himself, 
so  often  had  he  told  the  story.  The  other  captains, 
sitting  like  so  many  veiled  prophets,  each  shrouded 
in  his  cloud  of  smoke,  listened  with  the  placid  enjoy 
ment  of  connoisseurs,  making  a  mental  note  of  any 
slightest  variation  of  word  or  inflection  in  the 
familiar  narrative.  Any  one  of  them  could  have  told 
it  in  his  sleep,  hut  it  was  Captain  Zeno's  story,  and 
it  was  one  of  the  unwritten  laws  of  the  Upper  House 
that  no  captain  should  tell  another's  story. 

"So,"  said  Captain  Zeno, — he  was  a  little  walnut- 
faced  man,  with  sharp  black  eyes,  and  a  dry  and 
rasping  utterance,  —  "so  they  was  makin'  good  sailin' 
with  a  fair  wind,  on  the  18th  day  of  October,  when 
all  of  a  suddent  the  lookout  sung  out— 

"Thar  she  blows!"  broke  in  Captain  Abram,  in 
his  piping  treble. 

"Where  away?"  responded  Captain  Silas  Riggs, 
promptly. 

"  Weather  bow ! "  said  the  old  man,  and  fell  silent 
again.  All  looked  at  Captain  Zeno,  who  smiled 
appreciatively. 

"Won'erful,  aint  it?"  he  said,  meditatively.  "He 
knows  that  pint,  Cap'n  Abram  does,  as  well  as  I  do. 
Wai,  as  I  was  sayin',  they  struck  a  school  o'  whales, 
on  the  weather  bow,  sure  enough ;  sperms  they  was, 
and  likely -lookin'  fur  as  they  could  see.  Three 


14  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

boats  put  off,  and  my  father,  bein'  mate  at  that 
time,  had  one  of  'em.  He  sighted  a  sixty-barrel 
bull,  and  was  pullin'  for  him  for  dear  life,  when 
an  old  cow  come  by  with  her  calf,  and  when  she 
saw  the  boat  she  dove,  and  one  eend  o'  the  fluke 
struck  'em  amidships,  and  stove  a  hole  in  'em. 
Wai !  that  kerwumpussed  'em,  ye  see !  Nothiri' 
for  it  but  to  pull  back  to  the  ship,  and  set  to  work 
on  repairs.  My  father  called  the  carpenters,  and 
give  'em  their  job,  an'  then  he  looked  after  the 
school,  and  cussed  a  little,  mebbe,  for  all  he  was 
a  pcrfessor,  to  think  he  was  losin'  all  the  fun. 
All  of  a  suddent  he  seed  a  whale  leave  the  school, 
turn  round,  and  make  straight  for  the  ship.  He 
didn't  think  nothin'  of  it,  'cept  he  see  'twas  the 
biggest  bull  his  eyes  had  ever  come  across.  Big? 
Wai!'  Twas  like  a  island,  Father  used  to  say.  He'd 
heerd  tell  of  two-himdred-and-thirty-barrel  whales 
along  back  in  the  seventeens,  and  he  calc'lated  this 
might  be  one  of  'em  left  over.  He  see  the  critter 
was  comin'  pooty  nigh,  and  he  sung  out  for  a 
harpoon,  thinkin'  he  might  git  a  shy,  after  all; 
when,  lo  ye!  that  whale  took  a  start  an'  come 
through  the  water  like  a  shot  out  of  a  gun,  and 
struck  the  ship  just  forrard  of  the  forechains. 

"  Wai,  sir,  they  was  knocked  consid'able  eendways, 
I  tell  ye!     Father  was  dumfoundered  for  a  minute, 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  15 

and  the  ship's  crew  with  him,  what  with  the  surprise 
on't,  and  the  everlastin'  shakin'  it  giv  'em,  too.  But 
Father  never  let  his  wits  go  without  a  string  tied  to 
'em,  and  in  a  minute  he  ordered  all  hands  to  the 
pumps,  to  see  if  she  had  sprung  a-leak.  She  hed,  sir; 
she  was  sinkin';  and  Father  run  up  the  sign  for  the 
boats  to  come  back.  He  turned  round  from  runnin' 
up  that  signal,  and  you  may  call  me  a  Jerseyman  if 
the  whale  was  n't  comin'  for  'em  agin,  head  on  and 
all  sails  drawin' !  Before  Father  could  sing  out,  he 
struck  'em  again,  pooty  nigh  the  same  place,  with  a 
crash  that  sent  every  man-jack  sprawlin'  on  his  face. 
Wai,  sir,  'twas  boats  then,  I  can  tell  ye,  and  no  time 
to  lose,  neither !  Th'  other  boats  kem  back  and  took 
'em  aboard,  and  in  five  minutes'  time  the  'Sabry' 
down  with  her  nose  and  up  with  her  heels,  and  down 
she  went  to  Davy.  Yes,  sir!  That's  what  you 
might  call  — 

At  this  moment  the  captain  was  interrupted  by  a 
knock  at  the  door.  He  looked  displeased,  but  said 
"  Come  aboard  ! "  with  as  good  a  grace  as  he  could  ; 
while  the  other  captains  turned  cheerfully  in  the 
direction  of  the  knocker,  who  might  bring  them 
something  new  in  place  of  a  many-times-told  tale. 

A  lank,  ungainly  man  entered,  and  stood  timidly 
on  one  foot,  with  his  mouth  open,  holding  the  door 
in  his  hand. 


16  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

"  Come  aboard ! "  repeated  Captain  Zeno,  impa 
tiently.  "  Shot  the  door !  Say  yer  say  with  yer 
mouth,  and  then  shct  that,  —  if  ye  can  get  it  all  to 
at  onc.'t !  "  he  added,  in  an  undertone. 

The  ungainly  man  looked  slowly  round  the  room, 
and  stroked  his  lantern-jaws.  "  That  man !  "  he  said, 
deliberately,  lingering  on  each  word  as  if  it  were  too 
precious  to  part  with,  "  what  be  I  to  do  with  him  ? " 

The  captains  looked  at  one  another.  They  had 
been  speaking  of  this  matter  only  a  few  minutes 
before,  but  they  feigned  unconsciousness. 

"  What  man  do  you  mean,  Sefami  Bunt  ?  "  asked 
Captain  Zeno,  severely.  "  The  prisoner  who  was 
caught  stealin'  hens  from  Palmyry  Henshaw  last 
week  ? " 

The  man  nodded.  "  Says  he  wants  somethin'  to 
do  !  "  he  said.  "  Says  he  'd  like  to  do  chores  round 
for  his  victuals.  Says  he  does  n't  like  my  victuals." 

The  captains  chuckled.  Sefami  Bunt  was  a 
bachelor,  and  his  housekeeping  was  not  supposed  to 
be  of  a  high  order. 

"Have  ye  got  him  in  the  jail?"  asked  Captain 
Asy  Bean. 

The  lantern-jawed  man  shifted  uneasily  to  the 
other  foot.  "  Wai,  I  hev  !  "  he  admitted.  «  But  he 
does  n't  seem  to  be  contented  with  that."  Then,  after 
a  pause,  "I  brung  him  with  me.  'T  want  safe  to 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  17 

leave  him,  for  the  jail  door  sags  so  I  can't  lock  it, 
and  the  chain  is  bust.  So  'f  you  'd  like  to  sec  him 
for  yerselves  — 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  captains  in  chorus. 

Sefami  Bunt  gave  a  backward  jerk  with  his  head. 
"  I  tied  him  to  the  leg  o'  the  table,"  he  said.  "  The 
boys  is  mindin'  of  him.  Sh'll  I  fetch  him  up  ?  " 

Receiving  an  affirmative  answer,  he  disappeared, 
and  returned,  dragging  the  prisoner  by  the  collar. 

The  latter,  the  instant  he  caught  sight  of  the 
assembly  of  mariners,  ^shook  off  his  keeper  with  a 
single  movement ;  then,  making  his  obeisance  in  true 
seaman  fashion,  he  glanced  quickly  round  the  room, 
and  stood  still,  cap  in  hand,  in  an  attitude  of  respect 
ful  humility. 

He  was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  evidently  of  great 
strength ;  a  sailor,  every  inch  of  him,  from  the  gold 
rings  in  his  ears  to  the  way  he  set  his  feet  down. 
Jet-black  curls  clustered  about  his  brown,  smiling 
face.  His  dark  eyes  were  alive  with  intelligence  and 
humour.  His  open  shirt  displayed  a  neck  elaborately 
tattooed,  while  hands  and  wrists  were  a  museum  of 
anchors,  hearts  and  crosses. 

"  Will  you  speak  to  him,  Cap'n  Bean  ? "  said  one 
or  two  of  the  other  captains  in  low  tones. 

"Wai,  I  don't  want  to  be  settin'  myself  up," 
replied  Captain  Asy,  "  but  if  it 's  the  wish"  —  he 


18  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

glanced  round  the  circle,  and  ascertained  that  it 
was  the  wish.  Whereupon,  clearing  his  throat  and 
assuming  a  quarter-deck  frown,  he  asked,  in  majestic 
tones,  "  What  is  your  name,  prisoner  ?  " 

The  dark  eyes  looked  intelligence.  "  Name,  hon 
ourable  captains  ?  Giorgios  Aristides  Evangelides 
Paparipopoulos." 

"  Great  Andes ! "  exclaimed  Captain  Asy.  "  We  've 
got  the  whole  archipelago,  and  no  mistake.  What 
do  they  m«yc?  Hey?" 

"Ah!"-  — the  brown  ftice  flashed  into  a  bewildering 
smile,  an  ivory  revelation.  "  Call  me  ?  Jim  !  " 

The  captains  breathed  again. 

"  That 's  more  civilized ! "  said  Captain  Asy. 
"  Now,  you  Jim,  what  have  you  got  to  say  for 
yourself  ?  " 

It  appeared  that  Jim  had  a  great  deal  to  say  for 
himself.  He  was  not  happy,  he  must  inform  the 
honourable  captains.  He  complained  of  his  quarters, 
of  his  jailer,  of  his  fare.  He  had,  it  was  true,  stolen 
a  hen,  being  very  hungry  and  having  no  money  to 
seek  the  so  honourable  hotel.  The  hen  was  almost 
uneatable,  but  —  he  had  stolen  her.  He  had  been 
condemned  to  three  months'  imprisonment  in  the 
jail,  and  it  was  well.  But — here  he  waxed  eloquent, 
pathetic.  "  I  haf  been  in  jail,  honourable  captains, 
before.  Never  for  great  offence,  but — I  have  been. 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  19 

But  never  like  /is!  Zc  rain  come  in  upon  my  bed. 
I  try  to  shut  ze  door,  for  /c  wind  blow  at  me,  but  he 
not  shut.  I  sleep,  and  zc  ship  come  in  ze  door  and 
eat  me." 

"  Hold  on  there  !  "  said  Captain  Asy.  "  What  do 
you  mean  by  that  ?  Hey  ?  Ship  come  in  the 
door?" 

"  Yes,  honourable  captain  ;  free  gre't  big  ship.  I 
hear  '  baa  !  baa  ! '  I  wake  suddainlce,  and  zey  arc  eat 
my  foot." 

"  Sheep,  he  means  !  "  the  jailer  explained.  "  The' 
warnt  but  two,  I  guess.  Fact,  they  got  a  way  o' 
wand'rin'  int'  the  jail,  but  they  would  n't  ha'  hurt  him 
any.  He 's  dretful  skeered  for  one  that 's  knocked 
about  pooty  nigh  the  world  over,  from  what  he  says." 

"  But!"  the  prisoner  maintained,  turning  a  candid 
face  upon  the  court;  "is  it  a  jail  —  for  ship  to  walk 
in  and  cat  —  what  you  say  neeble  —  ze  foots  of 
prisoners  ?" 

"No!  no!  'taint!"  "That's  so!"  "He's  right, 
gentlemen !  "  came  from  the  assembled  captains. 

"  Zen,"  Jim  continued,  "  zc  mess!  Salted  backbone 
of  hog  —  must  I  eat  always  /is?  Never  for  free 
mont's  ozer  sing  ?  Honourable  captains,  I  die." 

"  Wai !  "  said  Sefami  Bunt,  with  a  hint  of  bluster 
in  his  voice,  "  I  guess  if  backbone  's  good  enough  for 
me,  it's  good  enough  for  him  !  'T  was  a  good  hawg! 
and,  anyway,  I  've  got  to  use  it!  " 


20  JIM   OF  HELLAS. 

"Sold  the  rest  and  salted  down  the  backbone  for 
yourself  and  prisoner? "  queried  Captain  Asy  Bean. 

The  jailer  nodded,  and  repeated  in  an  injured  tone  : 

"  'T  was  a  good  hawg !  Anybody  could  ha'  seen 
him  fattenin'  any  time  they  mind  to  pass  by." 

"And  I  tell  Mr.  Bout," — Jim  resumed  the  thread 
of  his  narrative,  smiling  apology  around, — "I  tell 
him,  'Let-a  me  go!'  not  ron  avay,  of  course;  I  can 
not  ron  avay  if  I  wish.  It  is  island.  I  tell  him 
'  Let-a  me  go  and  work !  I  make  ze  door  good ;  1 
mend  ze  windows;  1  do  for  ozcr  people  work,  per 
haps  zey  give  me  ozer  mess.'  Is  it  not?"  with  a 
sudden  flash  and  gleam  of  eyes  and  teeth. 

There  was  a  short  pause.  "How  did  you  come 
here,  anyway?"  queried  Captain  Bije  Tarbox. 

It  appeared  that  Jim  had  fallen  overboard  from 
his  vessel.  It  was  night,  and  his  fall  had  not  been 
noticed.  Fortunately,  the  vessel  was,  even  at  the 
moment,  passing  the  Island.  He  was  a  good  swim 
mer,  used  to  being  in  the  water  for  a  long  time  — 
briefly,  behold  him !  He  stole  the  hen.  He  was 
taken,  brought  before  the  "selected  gentlemen." 
That  was  his  story. 

"Just  step  outside  with  Bunt  a  minute,  my  man," 
said  Captain  Asy  Bean,  "  and  we  '11  settle  your  case." 
Then,  as  the  door  closed  behind  the  smiling  criminal 
and  his  gloomy  guardian,  Captain  Asy  turned  to 
the  others: 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  21 

"Gentlemen,  this  story  may  or  may  not  be  true. 
It  sounds  fishy;  hut,  anyhow,  the  man  must  have 
come  from  somewhere,  and  I  d'no  as  it  matters 
much,  s'  long  as  he  's  here  now.  Question  is,  what  to 
do  with  him  now  he  is  here.  Just  like  them  seleck- 
men,  lettin'  the  jail  go  to  rack  an'  ruin,  an'  then 
clappin'  a  man  in  thar  for  the  sheep  to  nibble." 

"Man's  a  seaman,  anyhow,"  said  Captain  Bije 
Tarbox.  "Ought  t'  ha'  been  sent  straight  to  us." 

"  That 's  so ! "  assented  the  captains  all. 

"  Wai !  "  resumed  Captain  Asy,  "  'pears  to  me  the 
straight  thing  is  for  us  to  send  for  the  seleckmen  — 
they  '11  be  goin'  by  to  dinner  direckly,  an'  we  can  toll 
'em  in  an'  say  to  'em  — 

"  Thar  she  blows  ! "  sang  out  Captain  Abram. 

"  Where  away  ? "  asked   Captain  Moses  Packard. 

"  Weather  bow ! "  was  the  reply ;  and  then  the 
talk  went  on  again. 


tt 


A  /TISS  PALMYRA  HENSHAW  was  sitting  in  her 
•»•¥•*•  neat  kitchen,  with  folded  hands.  The  ket 
tle  was  singing  cheerfully,  the  cat  was  purring  con 
tentedly  by  the  stove;  but  for  once  Miss  Palmyra's 
mood  did  not  chime  in  with  the  singing  or  the  purr- 
ing.  She  had  sprained  her  ankle  the  day  before,  and 
it  was  now  so  painful,  that,  after  dragging  it  about 
till  her  work  was  "done  up"  (for,  land  sakes!  she 
could  n't  sit  down  in  the  dirt;  and  her  kitchen  had  to 
be  cleaned  up,  if  she  did  it  on  her  hands  and  knees), 
she  was  fain  now  to  sit  down  and  put  the  offending 
member  up  on  a  chair. 

She  looked  at  the  poor  foot  with  great  displeasure. 
It  was  badly  swollen  ;  she  had  had  to  put  on  a  green 
carpet  slipper,  one  of  an  old  pair  of  her  father's;  and 
the  contrast  with  her  other  foot,  in  its  trim,  Avell- 
blacked  shoe,  was  anything  but  pleasant. 

As  she  sat  thus  in  silent  discomfort,  she  heard  the 
sound  of  the  pump  in  the  yard.  Somebody  was 
working  the  handle  up  and  down  with  firm,  regular 
strokes. 

"Well,  what  next?"  said  Miss  Palmyra,  fretfully, 

22 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  23 

peering'  out  of  the  window  and  trying  to  gain  a  sight 
of  the  intruder.  "I  sh'd  like  to  know  who's  at  that 
pump  without  askin'  leave  or  license.  I  left  the 
pail  out  there,  too,  did  n't  I  ?  Like  as  not  it  '11  go, 
same  as  the  hen  did.  I  must  get  up!"  —she  made  a 
motion  to  rise,  hut  sank  back  with  a  groan.  "My 
Land!  Have  I  got  to  sit  here  and  have  my  things 
stole  without  liftin'  a  finger?" 

At  the  same  moment  she  heard  quick  steps  cross 
ing  the  yard:  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  entered, 
carrying  a  brimming  pail  of  water.  Miss  Palmyra 
opened  her  mouth  to  shriek,  but  closed  it  again  when 
the  stranger  smiled. 

"  Good  eve ! "  said  the  man,  who  had  black  curls, 
gold  rings  in  his  ears,  and  the  brightest  eyes  that 
ever  were  seen.  "  I  come  to  do  ze  work." 

"  Work ! "    ejaculated  Miss  Palmyra,  faintly. 

"Ze  shores!"  explained  the  man,  with  a  brilliant 
flash  of  eyes  and  teeth.  "You  have  hurt  ze  foot? 
So  peety !  Look !  I  fill  ze  kettel  —  so !  I  bring  ze 
wood  —  so!"  (He  was  gone,  and  back  again  with 
an  armful  of  wood  before  Miss  Palmyra  could  trust 
her  bewildered  senses  enough  to  know  whether  she 
was  awake  or  dreaming.)  "I  fill  up  ze  stofe  —  so! 
And  next  ?  It  is  a  cow  zat  you  haf  ?  I  milk  her !  " 
He  swept  a  glance  around  the  kitchen,  seized  with 
unerring  instinct  the  right  pail,  and  was  gone  again. 


24  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

Miss  Palmyra  pinched  herself,  and  opened  and 
shut  her  eyes  several  times. 

"  I  wonder  if  1  'in  goin'  crazy ! "  she  said.  "  I  feel 
kinder  light-headed." 

She  looked  at  the  cat,  who  blinked  quietly  in 
return,  and  his  calm  air  of  tranquillity  steadied  her 
nerves.  "  If  he  'd  been  a  tramp,  he  would  n't  ha' 
brought  in  that  wood  ! "  she  said.  "  Would  he,  Ebcn?  " 
The  cat  was  named  Ebenezer.  Ebenezer  purred 
assurance,  and  Miss  Palmyra's  spirits  rose.  "  Like  as 
not  he 's  stayin'  with  some  o'  the  neighbours ! "  she 
said.  "  Mis'  Brewster  's  real  kind :  mebbe  this  is  her 
nephew  she  was  expectin',  and  she  sent  him  in  to 
help  me.  Well,  I  'm  sure ! "  She  twitched  a  little 
shawl  over  the  carpet-slipper,  and  settled  her  neat 
collar  and  apron. 

When  the  stranger  returned,  beaming  over  the 
brimming  milk-pail,  she  was  able  to  greet  him  -with 
"Well,  you're  real  obligin',  I  must  say.  I  didn't 
hardly  know  what  I  should  do  about  milkin',  for  I 
can't  seem  to  put  my  foot  to  the  ground.  Stayin'  at 
Mis'  Brewster's,  be  ye  ?" 

"  No ! "  with  a  flash  which  illuminated  the  kitchen. 
"  Not  zere.  Where  he  live,  ze  milk  ?  Zis  door  ? " 

Miss  Palmyra  indicated  the  pantry  door,  where  the 
yellow  pans  stood  ready  and  waiting. 

She  listened  keenly  for  a  sound  of  spilling  or  drip- 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  25 

ping,  but  none  came ;  only  a  steady,  even  pouring. 
"  He  's  a  real  good  hand  ! "  she  murmured. 

"  And  now  ? "  the  dark  eyes  smiled  on  her  again. 
"  You  lame,  I  get  your  sopper.  What  you  like  ?  " 

"Oh,  —  no,  sir,  you  can't  do  that!"  cried  Miss 
Palmyra.  "  I  'm  jist  as  obliged,  I  assure  you,  but  I 
sha'n't  want  nothin'  more  to-night.  I  had  a  good 
dinner.  Well,  I  'm  sure  ! " 

She  felt  utterly  helpless  when  the  stranger,  with 
another  smile,  produced  three  eggs  from  his  pocket, 
and  taking  a  bowl,  proceeded  to  break  the  eggs  into  it 
and  beat  them  with  right  good  will.  "  When  you 
seeck,  then  you  weak,"  he  explained.  "Most  eat 
good  sopper !  I  make  !  " 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  frying-pan  was 
on  the  stove;  and,  while  it  was  heating,  his  keen 
black  eyes  spied  a  tray.  Napkin,  knife  and  fork 
were  arranged  upon  it  with  swift  precision.  Setting 
a  plate  to  warm  on  the  back  of  the  stove,  he 
proceeded  to  do  wonderful  things  with  the  beaten 
eggs,  tossing  them  about  with  a  fork,  stirring, 
seasoning,  tasting.  This  was  done  with  the  right 
hand,- while  the  left  was  toasting  a  slice  of  broad. 
All  the  time  the  black  eyes  were  glancing  here 
and  there,  like  darting  sunbeams.  Spying  a  string 
of  onions,  the  stranger  pounced  upon  them.  A 
morsel  was  torn  off,  shredded  fine,  and  stirred  into 
the  savoury  mess. 


26  JIM   OF  HELLAS. 

In  five  minutes  such  an  omelette  was  smoking  on 
the  hot  plate  as  Miss  Palmyra  had  never  even 
dreamed  of;  and  in  one  minute  more  it  was  beside 
her  on  the  little  light-stand,  and  she  was  bidden 
"Eat!  I  make  tea!" 

Now  Miss  Palmyra  had  not  had  a  good  dinner,  and 
she  was  desperately  hungry,  and  —  oh !  how  good 
that  omelette  did  smell !  The  toast  was  perfect ! 

Where  had  Mis'  Brewster's  nephew  learned  all  this? 
And  now,  to  crown  all,  a  cup  of  tea  was  set  beside 
her, —  hot,  strong  and  fragrant.  And  then  — 

"  Please  ze  lady  I  also  have  a  cup  ? "  asked  this 
astonishing  person.  The  tone  was  soft  and  pleading, 
the  dark  eyes  deprecating,  as  if  he  were  a  humble 
suitor,  asking  a  royal  boon. 

"  Well,  I  should  hope  you  could ! "  cried  Miss 
Palmyra,  hospitably.  The  idea !  I  don't  see  what  I 
was  thinking  of,  Mr. —  Is  your  name  Brewstcr  ?  " 

"  No ! "  said  the  stranger,  softly.     "  Name  is  Jim ! " 

A  good  supper  had  Giorgios  Aristides  Evangelides 
Paparipopoulos,  alias  Jim,  that  night!  There  was 
more  omelette  than  Miss  Palmyra  could  possibly  eat, 
she  declared ;  indeed,  Jim  had  meant  that  there 
should  be.  Then  she  told  him  where  to  find  a  cer 
tain  loaf  of  spice  cake,  and  a  jar  of  damson  jam  ;  and 
she  insisted  upon  his  eating  till  he  could  eat  no  more. 
After  a  week  of  salted  backbone  of  hog,  Jim's 
appetite  for  these  good  things  was  keen  enough. 


JIM   OF  HELLAS.  27 

He  beamed  with  pleasure ;  his  smiles  made  noon 
day  in  the  darkening  kitchen :  Miss  Palmyra 
thought  him  uncommonly  handsome.  Only  —  it  was 
a  pity  he  wore  ear-rings.  And,  after  all,  who  was  he  ? 
She  really  must  find  out. 

"  You  've  never  told  me  how  you  kem  to  know  of 
my  bein'  lame ! "  she  said,  as  her  guest  was  washing 
the  dishes  with  careful  nicety.  "  You  a  stranger 
here,  too !  Who  did  send  ye,  if  I  'm  not  takin'  a 
liberty  ? " 

"  Ze  honourable  captains  send  me,"  said  Jim,  with 
open  cheerfulness  ;  "  and  ze  selected  gentlemen." 

"  Well,  I  'm  sure  !  "  ejaculated  Miss  Palmyra. 

"  I  steal  your  hen  !  "  Jim  explained,  with  winning 
grace.  "  Was  very  sorry ;  should  not  have  done  — 
but !  Now  I  work  free  mont' ;  do  shores  for  ladies ; 
do  all  works.  But  for  you  I  work  most,  for  I  steal 
your  hen.  Is  it  not?"  And  putting  away  the  cups 
and  saucers,  he  swept  the  hearth  with  ardour. 

"  Well,  I  'm  sure  !  "  said  Miss  Palmyra  again ;  and 
she  really  could  not  think  of  anything  else  to  say. 

Everyone  agreed  that  it  was  a  special  providence 
that  Jim  Popples  (such  being  the  popular  rendering 
of  our  hero's  name)  had  been  cast  away  on  the 
Island  just  when  there  was  so  much  sickness  "  goin' 
about,"  and  when  Aunt  Ruhamy  Snell,  the  accred- 


28  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

ited  nurse  of  the  Island,  was  laid  up  with  rheuma 
tism.  The  quick,  active  Greek  was  here,  there  and 
everywhere.  He  split  wood,  he  made  fires,  he  milked 
cows.  He  mended  chairs,  and  set  panes  of  glass ; 
he  kept  all  the  children  happy  by  plaiting  wonderful 
things  out  of  twine,  and  whittling  royal  navies  with 
his  jackknife. 

He  also  mended  up  the  jail  as  well  as  he  could,  and 
might  be  seen  patching  the  walls  of  his  cell,  whis 
tling  merrily,  while  the  jailer  sat  by  in  moody  silence 
watching  him.  It  was  generally  felt  that  Sefami 
Bunt  had  not  done  as  he  ought  by  his  prisoner,  and 
that  he  really  was  not  fitted  for  the  offices  he  held  of 
jailer  and  hog-reeve ;  but,  as  Captain  Zeno  Pye  said, 
"  thar  warnt  nothin'  else  Sefami  could  do,  and  it  kep' 
him  off  the  town,  anyway." 

But  Jim's  best  work,  and  his  longest  hours,  were 
given  to  Miss  Palmyra  Henshaw.  She  had  freely 
forgiven  him  his  theft  of  the  hen,  and  in  the  long 
period  of  inactivity  to  which  she  was  now  condemned 
(for  if  one  trifles  with  a  sprained  ankle,  one  is  apt  to 
pay  for  it,  and  it  was  a  month  before  she  could  do 
more  than  hobble  about  with  a  crutch),  she  found 
him  an  invaluable  friend.  Morning,  noon  and  night 
would  see  him  smiling  at  the  door,  with  his  cheery 
"How  you  do,  Mees  Palmyrc?  So  better,  is  it  not? 
Glad  I  am !  " 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  29 

Often  he  brought  some  little  offering:  a  wooden 
dish  of  wild  strawberries ;  a  string  of  fish,  gleaming 
fresh  from  the  water  ;  or  it  might  be  half-a-dozen  crabs, 
which  would  crawl  out  of  his  pockets,  only  to  meet  a 
swift  death  in  the  kettle  of  boiling  water,  and  be  con 
verted  into  some  wonderful  dish.  Of  Jim's  skill  in 
cookery,  Miss  Palmyra  spoke  with  bated  breath. 

"  Well ! "  she  would  say  to  Mrs.  Brewster,  who, 
toiling  over  her  own  cook  stove,  sometimes  wished  she 
had  a  sprained  ankle  and  could  have  Jim  Popples  to 
do  her  work  ;  "  that  man  has  a  real  gift,  that 's  sartin'. 
Give  him  an  egg  and  an  onion,  and  it  does  seem  as  if 
he  could  git  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt  out  of  'em.  Jest 
you  step  to  the  cupboard,  Mis'  Brewster.  Thar's  a 
corner  I  left  special  for  you  to  taste,  a  dish  o'  tomay- 
toes  and  rice  he  cooked  for  my  dinner  yesterday. 
Just  them,  and  a  bit  o'  butter  and  a  scrap  of  onion, 
and  — thar !  Did  you  ever !  Don't  that  relish  good  ?  " 

Small  wonder  that  Miss  Palmyra  grew  plump  and 
rosy  in  spite  of  the  sprained  ankle. 

Many  a  housewife  wished,  like  Mrs.  Brewster,  that 
she  also  might  profit  by  Jim's  gift;  but  though  he 
did  all  kinds  of  chores  for  the  whole  village,  he  would 
cook  for  no  one  but  Miss  Palmyra  Henshaw.  "  I 
steal  you  hen ! "  he  said  to  her.  "  I  wish  to  make 
you  up  for  zat.  I  steal  hens  at  no  ozer  lady." 

So  Miss  Palmyra  grew  to  feel  a  sort  of  ownership 


30  JIM  OF  HELLAS. 

of  Jim  Popples,  which  was  by  no  means  unpleas 
ant  ;  and  she  sewed  on  his  buttons  (for  pleasure ; 
he  could  do  it  perfectly  well  himself,  as  she 
knew)  and  mended  his  clothes ;  while  he,  at  work 
with  broom  or  mop,  or  whittling  away  at  basket- 
splints,  told  her  wonderful  stories  of  foreign  lands,  of 
apes  and  peacocks,  cedars  and  pomegranates,  till  the 
good  woman  grew  to  feel  that  her  thief  was  a  very 
remarkable  and  very  gifted  person. 

So  three  months  slipped  away,  as  fast  as  months 
are  apt  to  do ;  and  a  day  came  when  the  captains  sat 
all  together  in  the  Upper  House  at  Bannister's,  and 
Giorgios  Aristides  Evangelides  Paparipopoulos  stood 
before  them,  as  he  had  stood  once  before,  with  his 
jailer  glooming  beside  him. 

The  captains  had  sent  for  him,  and  now,  at  a 
murmur  from  the  others,  Captain  Zeno  Pye  took  up 
the  word : 

"  Wai,  Jim,  yer  three  months  is  up,  and  I  s'pose 
you  're  thinkiii'  about  goin'.  Me  and  the  captains 
feel  to  say  to  you  that  you've  done  well,  real  well.  Of 
course  you  started  in  mean,  and  stealin'  aint  right, 
however  you  look  at  it.  But  you've  worked  stiddy, 
and  you've  worked  good;  and  I  reckon  you  'd  have  to 
hunt  round  consid'able  before  you  found  anybody  in 
town  who  wa'n't  real  sorry  to  have  ye  go.  If  you 
felt  to  stay,  I  don't  doubt  but  you  could  get  all  the 


JIM  OF  HELLAS.  31 

work  you  wanted,  odd-jobbin'  round.  The  select 
men  'd  oughter  pay  ye  somethin'  for  repairin'  the  jail, 
but  thar !  —  that 's  between  you  and  them.  Wai ! 
the  steamer  comes  to-morrer,  and  I  s'pose  you'll  be 
movin'.  What  we  want  to  say  is,  that  we're  right 
sorry  to  have  ye  go,  Jim  Popples.  You  're  a  handy 
fellow,  and  I  don't  doubt  you  're  a  good  seaman ; 
and  if  me  or  the  other  captains  can  speak  a  good 
word  for  ye,  or  help  ye  any  way  with  a  start,  why, 
we  're  ready  to  do  it.  That 's  so,  aint  it  ?  " 

There  was  a  growl  of  assent,  in  the  midst  of 
which  — 

"  Thar  she  blows ! "  sung  out  Captain  Abram 
Bannister. 

"  Where  away  ? "  cried  Captain  Bije  Tarbox. 

"  Weather  bow !  "  responded  Captain  Abram,  and 
slept  peacefully. 

Jim  looked  slowly  round  the  circle ;  his  smile  grew 
wider  and  brighter,  till  each  man  felt  warm,  and 
thought  the  weather  was  moderating ;  then  he  saluted 
in  seaman  fashion. 

"  I  not  go !  "  said  the  child  of  Hellas.  "  I  stay. 
I  get  married  to-morrow  —  to  Mees  Palmyre !  " 


THE  TROUBLING  OF  BETHESDA  POOL 


THE  TROUBLING  OF  BETHESDA  POOL, 


Part  I* 

SOME  people  in  the  village  (but  they  were  the 
spiteful  ones)  used  to  say  that  Bethesda  Pool 
might  e'en  so  well  be  a  dummy  and  done  with  it,  if 
she  never  could  open  her  mouth  when  a  person  spoke 
to  her.  But  there  were  always  others  who  were  ready 
to  respond  that  "it  was  a  comfort  there  was  one 
woman  who  knew  enough  to  hold  her  tongue  when 
she  had  nothing  to  say!"  This  retort  was  apt  to 
provoke  the  reply  churlish  ;  and  many  a  pretty  quarrel 
had  been  hatched  up  over  the  silence  of  Bethesda 
Pool,  who  never  quarrelled  herself,  because  it  entailed 
talking. 

She  was  the  Lady  of  the  Inn,  Miss  Bethesda.  Her 
mother,  the  late  Mrs.  Pool,  had  married  the  inn 
keeper,  and  led  a  sad  life  of  it.  She  was  a  woman  of 
a  lively  fancy,  and  had  been  in  the  habit  of  saying 


36  BETHESDA   POOL. 

that  if  she  had  been  fool  enough  to  get  drownded 
in  a  pool,  she  meant  to  get  all  the  good  she  could  out 
of  the  name !  So  she  named  her  eldest  daughter 
Siloama  (pronounced  Silo-amy),  her  second  Bethesda, 
and  the  son,  who  came  just  after  her  husband  had 
drowned  himself  in  his  special  pool  of  whiskey, 
Heshbon..  The  neighbours  thought  this  triflin'  with 
Scriptur',  and  had  their  own  opinion  of  Ma'am  Pool's 
eccentricities ;  but  the  good  lady  cared  little  for  any 
body's  opinion ;  indeed,  if  she  had  had  any  such  care, 
she  would  not  have  married  Father  Pool,  whose  failings 
were  well  known.  All  that  was  long  ago,  however ; 
Father  and  Mother  Pool  were  gone  to  their  places, 
the  pensive  Silo-amy  and  the  fishy  Heshbon  had 
followed,  and  Miss  Bethesda  was  Queen  of  the  Inn. 

The  Inn  was  the  only  one  in  the  village.  Perhaps 
there  was  little  need  even  of  this ;  but  it  had  always 
been  there  since  the  old  stage-coach  days,  when  the 
village  was  a  favourite  stopping-place  for  gay  parties 
of  travellers,  and  when  old  Gran'ther  Pool  kept  open 
house,  and  smiled  over  his  bar  on  all  comers,  like 
a  rising  sun  a  little  the  worse  for  wear.  It  was  a 
quaint  old  house,  with  a  stone  veranda  in  front,  and 
mossy  roofs  pitching  this  way  and  that.  Inside  was 
maze  upon  maze  of  long,  narrow  corridors,  with  queer 
little  rooms  opening  out  of  them,  —  some  square,  some 
long;  all  low  of  ceiling  and  wavy  of  floor,  with 


BETHESDA   POOL.  37 

curious  dolphin-shaped  latches,  and  doors  set  as  if  the 
builder  had  thrown  them  at  the  wall  and  made  the 
opening  wherever  they  happened  to  strike.  Few  of 
these  doors  were  on  a  level  with  the  floor;  they 
might  be  two  steps  above  it,  or  three  steps  belowr;  it 
was  a  matter  of  fancy,  purely.  There  was  one  room 
that  could  only  be  entered  through  the  closet,  unless 
you  preferred  to  get  in  at  the  window ;  but  you  could 
easily  do  that,  as  it  opened  on  the  balcony.  Then 
there  was  a  square  chamber  containing  a  trap-door ; 
the  Kidderminster  carpet  fitted  the  trap  perfectly, 
and  it  was  a  dangerous  room  for  strangers  to  enter. 
Here  the  Freemasons  used,  in  old  times,  to  hold  their 
meetings,  and  carry  on  their  mystic  rites.  Later,  it 
was  the  favourite  playroom  of  the  Pool  children,  and 
they  and  their  playmates  were  never  tired  of  popping 
up  and  down  the  "  Tumplety  Hole,"  as  they  called  it. 

In  the  middle  of  the  second  story  was  a  long  ball 
room,  where  in  old  days  merry  dances  had  been  held, 
and  young  feet  jigged  it  to  the  tune  of  "  Money  Musk  " 
or  "  Hull's  Victory." 

This  room,  with  its  wonderful  wall-paper,  repre 
senting  the  Carnival  at  Rome,  and  its  curious  clock, 
was  an  object  of  wonder  to  the  whole  village ;  and 
strangers  or  visitors  were  pretty  sure  to  present  them 
selves  at  the  Inn  door,  sometimes  begging  to  be  taken 
in  for  a  few  days,  sometimes  merely  asking  the 


38  BETHESDA   POOL. 

privilege  of  going  over  the  quaint  old  house.  The 
reception  of  these  visitors  was  apparently  a  matter  of 
caprice  with  the  Lady  of  the  Inn ;  one  never  could  tell 
how  she  would  take  it.  Sometimes  an  eager  state 
ment  that  "  We  heard  of  your  beautiful  house,  and  we 
have  driven  over  from  South  Tupham,  ten  miles,  on 
purpose  to  see  it !  "  would  be  met  by  the  monosyllable 
"  Have ! "  delivered  in  Miss  Bethesda's  mildest  tone, 
and  the  door  would  be  softly  but  firmly  shut  in  the 
travellers'  faces.  Or  the  visitor  might  try  another 
tack,  and  begin  with  the  bold  assumption  that  the 
Inn  was  a  place  of  public  entertainment,  and  that  man 
and  beast  were  welcome  there,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"  I  should  like  two  bedrooms  and  a  sitting-room, 
please !  And  will  you  send  someone  to  look  out  for 
my  horses?  And  —  I  should  like  supper,  something 
hot,  as  soon  as  convenient!"  To  which  Miss 
Bethesda  might  reply,  "  Should  you  ? "  and  smile, 
and  again  shut  the  door. 

But  there  were  other  times  when  something  in  the 
asking  face  or  voice  touched  one  knew  not  what  chord 
in  the  good  lady's  breast.  On  these  occasions  she 
could  be  very  gracious,  and  would  say,  perhaps,  that 
she  really  didn't  know,  she  didn't  take  boarders— 
mebbe  —  just  this  once — if 'twould  accommodate  — 
she  didn't  know  —  but  she  might  compass  it  some 
how,  and  the  door  would  be  opened  wide;  and,  once 


BET1IESDA   POOL.  39 

inside,  the  guest  was  sure  to  be  made  so  comfortable 
that  he  was  loth  to  go  away  again. 

The  fact  was,  that  being  clothed  with  means,  as 
they  say  in  the  village,  the  Lady  of  the  Inn  felt  that  it 
was  merely  a  matter  of  personal  fancy,  the  taking  in 
of  guests,  and  that  if  she  were  not  in  the  mood  for 
visitors  there  was  no  manner  of  reason  why  she 
should  be  bothered  with  them. 

She  had  one  servant,  a  grim  elder,  by  name  Ira 
Goodwin.  The  spiteful  people  before  alluded  to  said 
that  Ira  —  or  Iry,  to  give  the  name  its  actual  pronun 
ciation  —  and  his  mistress  never  spoke  to  each  other, 
but  communicated  by  means  of  signs.  That  could  not 
be  true,  however,  for  Mrs.  Peake,  next  door,  had  been 
shaking  a  carpet  in  her  yard  one  day,  close  by  the 
fence,  and  had  heard  Iry  say,  in  a  growling  manner, 
"Guess  I  can  hold  my  tongue  as  well  as  others!" 
To  which  Miss  Bethesda's  crisp  tones  replied : 
"  You  'd  better,  for  the  outside  of  your  head  does  you 
more  credit  than  the  inside  ! " 

Thus  Miss  Bethesda  Pool  lived  in  solitude  for  the 
most  part,  and  content  with  her  lot ;  and  no  breeze 
ruffled  the  still  waters  of  her  life. 

It  was  very  peaceful  to  be  alone  there  in  the  great 
rambling  Inn,  and  hear  no  sound  save  the  purring  of 
the  yellow  cat,  and  the  drip  of  the  water  from  the 
roofs.  The  roofs  all  leaked  in  the  Inn,  whenever 


40  BETHESDA   POOL. 

there  was  a  possible  chance  for  leaking,  and  the  walls 
were  covered  with  strange  patterns  and  hieroglyphics 
that  were  not  included  in  the  design  of  the  wall-paper. 

It  happened  one  day  that  Miss  Bethesda  Pool  was 
sitting  in  her  own  comfortable  room,  toeing  off  a 
stocking,  and  thinking  of  many  things,  when  she 
heard  a  knock  at  the  door.  She  took  no  notice  of 
the  first  summons,  for  she  found  that  in  many  cases 
the  knocker,  after  one,  or  at  most  two,  trials,  was  apt 
to  go  away,  which  saved  a  world  of  trouble,  and 
showed  that  he  had  no  business  that  amounted  to  any 
thing,  anyhow.  But  this  was  a  persistent  knocker, 
who  kept  on  with  a  timid  yet  steady  "  rat-tat-tat  — 
till  Miss  Bethesda  concluded  that,  whoever  it  was, 
he  had  not  sense  enough  to  know  when  he  wasn't 
wanted,  and  that  she  must  answer  the  knock. 

She  folded  her  knitting  deliberately,  and  after  ex 
amining  the  draughts  of  the  stove,  and  stroking  the 
yellow  cat  two  or  three  times,  she  went  to  the  door, 
holding  her  chin  a  little  high,  and  looking,  if  the 
truth  must  be  told,  rather  uncompromising. 

When  she  opened  the  door,  however,  the  lines  of 
her  face  softened  and  her  chin  went  down.  A  bright- 
faced  girl  stood  there,  with  a  shawl  wrapped  round 
her,  for  the  day  was  cold.  She  was  trying  to  smile, 
but  there  were  tears  in  her  brown  eyes,  and  her  lip 
was  quivering. 


BETIIESDA   POOL.  41 

"  Miss  Pool,"  she  said, "  I  don't  suppose  I  can  come 
in,  can  I  ?  I  'd  like  ever  so  much  to  speak  to  you,  if 
you  would  n't  mind  !  " 

Miss  Bethesda  opened  the  door  wide,  and  without 
wasting  breath,  led  the  shivering  child  in,  and 
closed  the  door  after  her  with  a  bang.  That  bang 
carried  defiance  across  the  way,  and  gave  Miss 
Bethesda  as  much  comfort  as  if  she  had  let  loose 
a  torrent  of  angry  words.  There  is  great  comfort 
in  a  door  sometimes.  Still  in  silence,  she  led  the 
girl  into  the  sitting-room,  drew  a  chair  near  the 
stove  for  her,  and  motioned  her  to  sit  down. 
Then  resuming  her  own  seat,  she  took  up  her 
knitting  again,  and  gazing  calmly  on  her  visitor, 
evidently  felt  that  she  had  done  her  part. 

"It's  Father,  Miss  Pool!"  said  the  pretty  girl, 
whose  name  was  Nan  Bradford.  Miss  Pool  nodded 
comprehension,  and  set  her  lips  more  firmly.  "Fa 
ther,  he  's  going  on  dreadful !  "  said  Nan.  "  You 
know  Will  Newell  has  been — well,  he  has  thought 
a  sight  of  me,  and  I  of  him,  these  two  years 
past. 

"  It  came  about  while  I  was  staying  to  grandma's, 
over  to  Cyrus,  and  grandma  knew  all  his  folks, 
and  there  aint  any  better  folks  in  the  country, 
grandma  said.  And  yet — Father — he  acts  as  though 
Will  was  one  thief  and  I  was  another.  He  won't 


42  BETIIEtSDA   POOL. 

let  him  come  to  the  house,  nor  he  won't  let 
me  write  to  him,  nor  he  won't  do  anything — 
'cept  just  be  ugly !  There !  I  had  n't  ought  to 
say  it,  I  know, — my  own  father,  and  just  as  good 
a  father  as  ever  a  girl  has  in  the  wide  world,  I  do 
believe,  till  this  come  up.  But  he  won't  hear  of 
my  marrying  anybody, —  that  is  the  plain  truth, 
Miss  Pool,  not  if  it  was  a  seraph  with  six  wings ! 
And  —  and — what  am  I  to  do,  I  should  like  to 
know  ?  I  come  to  you,  'cause  you  've  always  been 
good  to  me,  and  I  seem  to  know  you  better  than 
anyone  else,  now  grandma's  dead.  And  I  would  n't 
complain  of  Father  to  anyone  else  in  the  village, 
so  I  would  n't ! " 

She  paused  for  breath;  Miss  Pool  looked  at 
her  and  nodded.  It  was  an  expressive  nod,  and 
the  girl  seemed  to  feel  better  for  it.  She  began 
to  cry  softly,  wiping  her  pretty  eyes  with  the 
corner  of  her  shawl.  "  I  'm  just  beat  out ! "  she 
said,  plaintively.  "  Be  !  "  said  Miss  Bethesda,  sooth 
ingly;  and  she  went  to  the  cupboard  and  brought 
out  some  of  the  famous  cookies  which  a  few 
privileged  children  were  allowed  to  taste  from 
time  to  time,  but  seldom  anyone  who  had  passed 
the  boundary  of  childhood.  Nan,  who  was  still  a 
child  in  some  ways,  brightened  at  sight  of  the 
cookies,  and  was  soon  nibbling  them  in  comparative 


BETUESDA   POOL.  43 

comfort,  sighing  from  time  to  time,  and  glancing 
up  under  her  long  eyelashes  at  Miss  Bethesda, 
who  sat  knitting  as  if  her  life  depended  upon  it, 
her  lips  set  very  tight,  and  apparently  taking  no 
notice  of  her  guest.  But  Nan  Bradford  knew  Miss 
Pool,  and  was  content  to  wait.  She  would  not 
have  been  let  in,  she  knew,  if  the  Lady  of  the  Inn 
had  not  been  in  a  good  mood.  So  she  nibbled  the 
cookies,  and  thought  of  Will,  and  was  as  comfortable 
as  a  lovelorn  and  persecuted  damsel  could  be. 

Miss  Bethesda  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  her  work, 
but  she  did  not  see  it.  Instead  of  the  gray  wool 
and  shining  needles,  a  stalwart  figure  stood  before 
her,  the  figure  of  Buckstone  Bradford.  He  had 
been  her  neighbour  for  all  the  years  of  their  life; 
he  was  four  years  her  senior,  and  they  had  been 
playmates  in  childhood.  A  breezy,  rosy-cheeked 
boy  he  had  been,  and  her  sworn  ally.  The  chil 
dren  were  apt  to  divide  into  two  parties:  Bethesda 
and  Buckstone  on  one  side,  Siloama  and  Heshbon 
on  the  other.  Thus  arrayed,  they  were  wont  to  do 
battle  around  the  yawning  gulf  of  the  Tumplety 
Hole,  shouting  their  respective  war-cries,  which 
alluded,  in  an  unfriendly  spirit,  to  the  qualities  of 
the  enemy. 

"  Gruff  and  Grum ! 
Deaf  and  Dumb ! " 


44  BETIIESDA   POOL. 

Siloama  and  Heshbon  would  pipe  shrilly;  to  which 
Bethesda  and  Buckstone  would  reply,  in  deeper  tones, 

"Snivelly,  Sneaky, 
Wobbly,  Weaky!" 

A  general  combat  would  ensue,  in  the  course 
of  which  both  parties  were  apt  to  fall  down  the 
trap-door  into  the  basement  room  below,  and  be 
rescued  by  Mother  Pool,  and  summarily  dealt  with 
by  her  slipper. 

Then  came  the  days  of  youth,  when  Buckstone 
courted  her,  and  might  have  won  her  if  he  had 
gone  to  work  in  the  right  way.  But  he  was 
headstrong,  and  she  was  obstinate;  and  he  didn't 
get  on  with  Siloama,  and  he  was  hard  on  Heshbon, 
and  so  it  had  all  blown  over;  he  had  married 
another  wife,  and  lost  her  while  Nan  was  a  baby. 
Miss  Bethesda  had  forgotten  all  about  Nan  by  this 
time:  before  her  stood  the  man  of  her  choice,  with 
his  feet  apart  and  his  chin  stuck  out,  much  as  her 
own  sometimes  was;  his  brows  were  knit,  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  sombre  fire. 

"  Bethesda,"  he  said,  and  the  words  seemed  to 
force  the  way  through  his  strong  white  teeth, 
"  Bethesda,  I  'm  going  to  marry  you,  anyway,  and 
I  'd  like  to  see  you  get  out  of  it !  Mind  that !  " 

Ah,  well,  that  was  all  men  knew !     She  had  got  out 


KETIIESDA   POOL.  45 

of  it,  —  was  it  a  sigh  that  came  at  the  thought,  or  a 
sniff  of  triumph,  or  a  combination  of  the  two  ?     And 
Buckstone  had  married  a  pindlin'  soul  that  had  n't  no 
more  life  in  her  than  a  November  chicken — and  — 
that  was  all  there  was  to  it,  Miss  Bethesda  reckoned. 

And  now,  here  he  was  hectoring  this  little  girl  of 
his,  that  always  favoured  him,  and  had  no  look  of  her 
mother — hectoring  and  bullying,  just  as  he  used; 
and  Miss  Bethesda  wondered  if  the  child  was  a-going 
to  stand  it.  She  would  n't  have  stood,  it  not  a  day, 
for  her  part,  if  she  was  his  daughter,  let  alone  his— 
his  —  wife!  And  then  she  found  herself  wondering 
whether  he  would  have  been  so  hectoring  if  she  had 
been — and  brought  herself  up  again  with  an  indig 
nant  start.  Why  in  Tunkett  should  she  be  fretting 
herself  about  Buck  Bradford's  girl,  she  wanted  to 
know !  And  yet,  —  she  had  got  the  better  of  Buck- 
stone  Bradford  once ;  it  would  beat  the  world  if  she 
could  put  him  down  again,  wouldn't  it? 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  her 
mind,  the  Lady  of  the  Inn  sat,  to  all  appearance, 
absorbed  in  her  work,  never  dropping  a  stitch,  never 
failing  to  count  with  the  regularity  of  a  self-respect 
ing  clock ;  and  Nan  Bradford  watched  her  anxiously 
over  the  edge  of  her  cooky. 


Part  a 

"Miss  POOL  asks  the  pleasure  of  your  company  at  a  social 
dance,  on  Thursday  evening,  at  seven  o'clock. 

"Yours  truly, 

"BETIIESDA    POOL." 

THIS  was  the  bomb-shell  that  fell  into  every 
respectable  household  in  the  village  two  days 
after  Nan  Bradford's  visit.  Such  a  sensation  had 
never  been  known  since  old  man  Pool  rode  a  saw- 
horse  across  the  common  and  into  meeting  the  Sun 
day  before  he  died ;  and,  indeed,  that  was  nothing  to 
be  compared  to  this.  Bethesdy  Pool !  Bethesdy  Pool 
give  a  party!!  Well,  what  next?  everybody  wanted 
to  know.  Half-an-hour  after  the  notes  had  been 
delivered  by  Iry  Goodwin  (who  carried  them  round 
in  a  basket  and  handed  them  out  as  if  they  were 
death  warrants),  every  woman  in  the  village,  with 
two  exceptions,  was  in  another  house  than  her  own. 

"  Have  you  got  one  ? "  "  Have  you  ? "  "  Let  me 
see!"  "Lemme  see  if  'tis  like  mine?"  "Yes, 
they  're  all  the  same ! "  "  Well,  I  do  declare !  don't 
you?"  "Is  the  mile-ennion  coming,  or  what,  do  you 

4ti 


HETIIESDA    POOL.  47 

s'pose?"  "  A  social  dance  !  Bcthcsdy  Pool,  as  hasn't 
set  down  to  a  table,  nor  yet  asked  a  soul  to  set  down 
to  hers  these  fifteen  years, — well  of  all!  but  so 't 
is !  You  can't  tell  where  to  have  some  folks,  even 
though  you  've  had  'em  all  your  life,  as  you  may  say ! " 

The  general  verdict  was  that  the  Pools  were  all 
"  streaky,"  and  Bethesda  the  most  streaked  of  any  of 
them ;  and  that  most  likely  she  was  going  clean  put 
of  her  mind  this  time,  and  there  would  be  an  end 
of  it. 

However,  the  unanimity  on  this  point  was  equalled 
by  the  determination  of  everybody,  old  and  young, 
rich  and  poor,  to  go  to  the  party.  In  fact,  it  seemed 
probable  that  every  house  in  the  village  would  be 
deserted  on  the  eventful  evening ;  for  not  a  soul  was 
willing  to  lose  the  sight  of  a  party  in  the  old  Inn. 

Report  said,  as  the  day  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
that  great  preparations  were  going  on.  Every  woman 
who  had  any  skill  in  cookery  had  offered  her  services 
eagerly,  hoping  to  have  some  share  in  the  great 
doings;  Mrs.  Fullby  had  "presumed  likely"  that 
Bethesda  would  have  more'n  she  could  manage  with 
her  own  two  hands,  and  had  assured  her  that  she, 
Mrs.  Fullby,  would  jis  lives 's  not  bring  her  apurn  and 
eggbcater  and  put  right  in  on  the  cake  and  frostin' ! 
while  Miss  Virginia  Sharpe  hinted  delicately  that  there 
was  "  a  certain  twist "  in  the  making  of  pastry  that 


48  BETHESDA   POOL. 

was  considered  peculiar  to  the  Sharpe  family,  and  that 
no  festivity  would  be  complete  without  "  Sharpe 
tarts ; "  but  Miss  Bethesda  was  of  the  opinion  that 
she  and  Iry  could  do  what  was  necessary,  and  just  as 
much  obleeged  to  them!  and  in  point  of  fact,  not  a 
soul,  with  the  exception  of  Nan  Bradford,  who  was 
seen  to  emerge  once  from  the  Inn,  looking  rather 
frightened  but  very  happy,  was  permitted  to  set  foot 
within  the  mysterious  doors.  Mrs.  Peake  said  that 
she  saw  Nan  coming  home,  looking  as  if  she  had  seen 
a  ghost  and  lost  her  heart  to  it ;  but  Mrs.  Peake  had 
a  poetic  way  with  her,  and  her  remarks  were  not 
much  heeded  in  the  village. 

It  was  thought  more  likely  that  Nan  had  been 
poking  her  nose  in  where  her  betters  wouldn't  ha' 
thought  of  poking  theirs,  and  got  it  taken  off  for 
her  pains,  and  served  her  right!  But  it  happened 
that  Mrs.  Peake  was  right  this  time. 

Thursday  evening  came !  The  moon  was  full,  the 
sleighing  perfect ;  Nature  was  evidently  in  league 
with  Miss  Bethesda  Pool,  and  meant  to  do  her  share 
in  making  the  party  a  success.  Miss  Pool,  standing 
in  state  at  the  end  of  the  ballroom,  waiting  for  her 
guests  to  arrive,  made  a  pleasant  picture  in  her  old- 
fashioned  flowered  brocade,  one  of  the  self-supporting 
kind,  little  beholden  to  any  figure  inside  it.  Her  hair 
was  still  brown,  still  pretty,  with  its  crinkles  that 


BETUESDA   POOL.  49 

caught  the  light,  and  gave  her  a  wonderful  look  of 
youth,  well  carried  out  by  her  bright  hazel  eyes,  and 
trim  figure.  In  truth,  she  was  not  old,  Miss  Bethesda ; 
her  fortieth  birthday  was  only  just  past,  and  she  was 
straight  as  a  dart,  and  strong  as  a  tree  ;  but  when  one 
has  played  old  woman  for  fifteen  years,  one  gets  to 
think  the  play  a  reality,  and  one's  neighbours  are  not 
slow  to  adopt  the  view.  On  looking  in  the  glass,  this 
evening,  Miss  Bethesda  experienced  a  slight  shock, 
and  a  decided  impression  of  good  looks.  She  won 
dered  if  Buckstone  Bradford  would  find  her  much 
changed ;  she  regretted  that  she  had  worn  her  old 
"  punkin "  hood  quite  so  uniformly  for  the  last  ten 
years,  and  meditated  on  the  attractions  of  a  certain 
sky-blue  "fascinator,"  which  had  been  lying  in  her 
top-drawer  ever  since  Siloama  died.  Fond  of  bright 
colours  Siloama  always  was,  and  dressy  to  the  day 
of  her  death.  Anyhow,  the  brocade  was  handsome 
enough  to  please  any  one !  Miss  Bethesda  smoothed 
down  the  shining  folds,  examined  her  white  silk  mitts 
carefully,  and  glanced  up  at  the  clock,  to  see  how 
much  longer  she  had  to  wait.  Nearly  seven !  Folks 
would  most  likely  be  on  time,  Miss  Bethesda  thought, 
with  a  grim  smile ;  curiosity  could  hurry  the  laziest 
folks  that  ever  forgot  to  draw  their  breath!  She  reck 
oned  every  old  podogger  in  the  village  would  turn  out 
to  sec  Bethesdy  Pool  make  a  fool  of  herself ;  but  let 


50  BETHESDA    POOL. 

'em  come  !  There  'd  be  more  than  one  fool  to-night, 
if  things  went  as  they  should !  'T  was  strange, 
though,  that  she  hadn't  heard  no  word  from  — 

Here  her  meditations  were  interrupted ;  for  the 
door  at  the  end  of  the  ballroom  flew  open  and  re 
vealed  a  tall  young  man,  wrapped  to  his  eyes  in  fur, 
who  rushed  forward  and  took  her  hand,  and  tried  to 
say  something,  and  failed  egregiously. 

"Will  Newell!"  cried  Miss  Bethesda,  "do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  this  is  you  ?  For  gracious  sake,  what 
do  you  want  ?  Did  n't  you  get  my  note  ? " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  did,"  cried  the  big  fellow,  drawing 
the  sleeve  of  his  fur  coat  across  his  eyes.  "  I  've  done 
as  you  said  ;  but  I  could  n't  go  farther  without  thank 
ing  you,  not  if  't  was  ever  so  !  Miss  Bethesda,  I  - 
I  'd  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you,  I  believe.  You 
don't  know  what  a  time  we  've  had, —  Nan  and  me. 
We  —  I  —  well,  I'm  not  one  to  talk,  never  was!  but 
I  would  do  anything  for  you,  now,  I  would !  " 

"  Dance  the  Virginia  Reel  with  me,  then,"  said 
Miss  Bethesda,  smiling  grimly  at  her  joke.  "  Or  else, 
if  you  don't  want  to  do  that,  take  yourself  out  of  this 
as  quick  as  you  can,  Will  Newell,  and  get  ready! 
Hark  !  There 's  the  bell  this  minute.  You  've  fixed 
it  all  right  with  Nan?" 

"  All  right ! "  panted  Will.  "  I  've  got  the  team  hid 
away  where  you  said,  in  the  old  cow-shed.  Now  I  '11 


UETIIESDA   POOL.  51 

g<>  and  fix  me ;  and  may  be  we  will  have  the  reel, 
Miss  Pool,  if  you  '11  have  it  early  enough  on  the  pro 
gramme.  I  won't  promise  to  wait  for  you,  though, 
inore'n  the  first  half  of  the  evening." 

He  ran  out,  his  eyes  shining  with  joy;  and  Miss 
Bethesda  folded  her  white  mitts  again,  and  waited 
calmly  for  the  first  guests. 

The  clock  struck  seven,  and  Miss  Bethesda  glanced 
up  again.  It  was  a  wonderful  clock,  this  of  the  old 
Inn.  More  than  a  hundred  years  it  had  hung  there, 
having  been  brought  over  from  England  by  Gran'ther 
Pool,  before  he  lost  his  money  and  took  to  keeping 
the  Inn.  Its  dial  and  frame  were  gayly  painted  with 
dancing  figures,  with  garlands  of  flowers,  from  which 
peeped  laughing  faces  of  loves  and  fairies.  The  great 
weights  that  hung  against  the  wall  were  curious,  too, — 
dolphin-shaped,  like  the  door-latches,  and  shining  with 
remnants  of  gilding.  And  now,  following  closely  on 
the  seventh  stroke,  came  notes  of  music,  faint,  rus 
tling  notes,  the  very  spirit  of  sound ;  a  waltz,  sweet 
and  delicate  as  the  tiny  faces  that  peeped  from  the 
painted  garlands  on  its  dial,  faltered  forth  from  the 
old  clock:  "Tra-la-la,  lira-la,  la-la!—  '  and  between 
the  notes  of  the  swinging  measure  the  wheels  creaked 
and  groaned,  and  the  wires  wheezed,  and  the  weights 
lamented  as  they  slid  up  and  down.  "  Just  like  any 
other  old  fool,"  thought  Miss  Bethesda, "  doing  things 


52  BETIIESDA   POOL. 

she  has  no  business  to!"  and  for  a  moment  she  felt 
as  old  as  the  clock,  and  repented  her  of  her  purpose. 

But  the  guests  were  here !  They  had  been 
gathering  for  some  time  in  the  cloak-room,  and 
now  one  couple  had  been  bold  enough  to  make 
the  first  break,  and  the  narrow  staircase  was  crowded 
with  maids  and  matrons,  sons  and  fathers,  all  in 
their  best.  Every  eye  glistened  with  eager  curiosity, 
every  mouth  was  open  to  whisper  in  the  next  ear 
at  anything  singular  that  should  meet  the  eye 
when  they  came  into  their  hostess's  presence;  but 
lo  and  behold !  there  stood  Bethesda  Pool,  looking 
as  if  she  had  a  party  every  week  of  her  life,  and 
had  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  but  stand  there 
and  look  fine. 

Very  stately  was  the  courtesy  with  which  Miss 
Bethesda  greeted  her  guests.  She  was  pleased  to 
see  them;  hoped  they  would  enjoy  themselves,  and 
make  themselves  as  much  to  home  as  if  they  was  to 
home !  This  was  generally  the  extent  of  her  con 
versation  with  any  one  group  of  eager  neighbours, 
before  turning  to  welcome  the  next.  But  presently 
the  colour  deepened  a  little  in  her  still  fresh  cheek, 
and  her  eyes  grew  brighter;  for,  coming  up  the 
ballroom,  she  saw  the  stalwart  form  of  Buckstone 
Bradford,  with  pretty  Nan  beside  him,  looking  like 
roses  and  milk  in  her  white  dress.  "  Knew  he  'd 


HETIIESDA    POOL.  53 

come!"  Miss  Bcthesda  said  to  herself;  and  imme 
diately  discovered,  by  the  flutter  at  her  heart,  that 
she  had  not  known,  but  only  hoped  it. 

Truth  to  tell,  Mr.  Bradford  had  had  a  dozen 
minds  about  coming  to  Bethesda  Pool's  party.  He 
had  never  forgiven  her  for  her  treatment  of  him 
twenty  years  before;  his  heart  was  of  firm  and 
tenacious  fibre,  and  retained  the  impression  of 
affections  and  of  injuries  more  than  many  a  softer 
organ.  He  considered  Bethesda  still  the  finest- 
looking  woman  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  would 
have  snorted  with  contempt  if  anyone  had  told 
him  that  his  daughter  Nan,  with  her  pink-and-white 
prettiness,  was  fairer  than  •  ever  his  old  sweetheart 
had  been.  But  admiring  was  not  forgiving,  and 
nothing  would  have  brought  Buckstone  out  to-night 
save  the  dread  of  "  goings-on "  on  the  part  of  his 
girl  and  that  good-for-nothing  Newell  fellow. 

There  was  something  in  the  air, —  Buckstone  did 
not  know  what  it  was, —  something  that  made  him 
uneasy.  Nan  had  been  so  meek  the  last  time  he 
scolded  her,  never  once  standing  up  for  her  favourite, 
as  she  was  wont  to  do ;  she  had  been  so  affectionate, 
and, —  well,  she  was  always  a  good  girl  when  she 
was  n't  making  a  fool  of  herself  about  a  noodle ; 
but  there  was  more  than  usual,  her  father  thought. 
He  did  n't  dare  to  let  her  go  alone  to  the  party ; 


54  BETUESDA   POOL. 

there  was  the  plain  truth  of  it;  he  was  afraid,  he 
knew  not  of  what.  So  he  had  had  his  hair  cut, 
and  had  taken  out  and  brushed  his  wedding  coat, 
not  without  angry  and  defiant  thoughts  of  her  who 
should  have  stood  up  with  him  when  he  wore  it ; 
and,  briefly,  here  he  was,  standing  before  Bethesda 
Pool,  grim  and  forbidding,  but  still  a  fine-looking 
man,  his  hostess  thought,  and  towering  head  and 
shoulders  above  everyone  else  in  the  room. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Bradford !  pleased  to  see 
you ! " 

"  Your  servant,  Miss  Pool !  "  and  it  was  over,  and 
the  mist  began  to  clear  from  Miss  Bethesda's  eyes,  as 
she  turned  aside  to  ask  the  fiddler  if  he  was  ready. 
The  fiddler  was  ready,  of  course.  He  had  been 
tuning  his  fiddle  for  the  last  fifteen  minutes,  and 
his  fingers  were  itching  to  begin.  Was  he  not  a 
pupil  of  old  Jacques  de  Arthenay,  the  famous  fiddler 
of  the  last  generation  ?  And  had  he  not  been 
shelved  for  the  past  ten  years,  just  because  folks 
were  fools  enough  to  prefer  an  organ  and  a  cornet 
to  the  only  instrument  ordained  of  Heaven  to  make 
people  dance !  So  with  right  good-will  he  mounted 
the  stool  in  the  corner,  and  struck  up  the  "  Lady 
of  the  Lake." 

How  many  years  it  Avas  since  that  hall  had  rung 
to  the  sound  of  a  fiddle !  Probably  no  one  present 


BET11ESDA   POOL.  55 

knew;  but  many,  and  especially  the  older  ones,  or 
those  who  were  cast  in  a  sentimental  mould,  felt  that 
there  was  something  ghostly  in  this  first  dance. 
People  were  a  little  timid,  perhaps;  and  their  hostess, 
standing  silent  and  stately  in  her  stiff  brocade,  was 
not  the  one  to  set  them  at  their  ease.  It  seemed 
to  Miss  Selina  Leaf  as  if,  when  the  dancers  took 
their  places  in  the  two  long  lines,  she  heard  the 
rustle  of  many  gowns  that  were  not  seen  in  the 
room;  as  if  old,  forgotten  perfumes  were  wafted 
through  the  air,  and  soft,  subdued  voices  whispered 
courtly  greetings  at  her  side.  She  was  "  littery," 
Miss  Selina,  and  had  written  many  "  sweet  things " 
for  the  county  weekly. 

But  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake "  is  a  robust  and 
inspiring  dance,  and  soon  banished  all  shadowy  or 
sentimental  thoughts  from  the  minds  of  the  dancers. 
«  Down  the  middle  ! "  "  Sashy  to  partners !  "  "  Turn 
the  same ! "  "  Eight  hands  round ! " 

Soon  eyes  were  sparkling  and  cheeks  glowing  like 
flame,  and  the  young  feet  went  flying  up  and  down 
the  long,  low  room,  as  young  feet  will  fly  when  the 
fiddle  sounds  and  the  blood  courses  freely  through  the 
veins. 

Miss  Bcthesda  Pool  looked  on  with  bright  eyes,  her 
foot  (she  had  the  prettiest  foot  in  the  room,  and  knew 
it)  tapping  in  time  to  the  music.  She  had  refused 


56  BETIIESDA   POOL. 

several  invitations  to  dance,  without  a  word,  simply 
a  sniff  of  denial ;  but  it  was  good  to  see  a  dance  again. 

Will  Newell  was  there,  dancing  with  his  cousin,  the 
pasty-faced  girl,  who  would  have  money  when  her 
grandfather  died :  dancing  dutifully,  as  if  the  cousin 
were  the  only  girl  in  the  room,  and  not  so  much  as 
glancing  toward  where  Nan  Bradford,  more  rosy  than 
ever,  was  footing  it  lightly  as  a  fairy,  opposite  young 
Jacob  Flynt. 

Jacob  was  her  father's  choice  for  her,  as  everybody 
knew ;  and  it  was  no  wonder  that  Buckstone  Bradford 
looked  cheerful  and  contented  as  he  leaned  against  the 
wall  with  folded  arms,  watching  the  dancers. 

Yes,  Buckstone  was  contented  for  the  moment; 
things  were  going  just  as  he  wished  to  see  them ;  and 
yet — so  ungrateful  a  creature  is  man — he  could  not 
help  suspecting  even  his  own  satisfaction.  What 
made  Nan  so  happy  ?  When  had  anyone  seen  her  look 
like  this  before  when  she  had  to  dance  with  Jacob 
Flynt  ?  Was  this  duty  or  —  or  what  ? 

The  "  Lady  of  the  Lake "  was  followed  by  the 
"  Portland  Fancy  ;  "  that  by  the  splendid  romp  of  the 
"  Tempest." 

Ah !  these  were  dances !  Happy  the  neighbourhood 
where  the  real  dances,  the  wreathing,  linked  garlands 
of  grace  and  lightness  and  youth,  still  form  part  of  a 
ball !  The  waltz  is  pretty  enough,  when  well  done ; 


BETHESDA   POOL.  57 

but  who  has  not  tired  of  the  endless  whirl  of  revolv 
ing  couples,  dual  teetotums,  spinning  round  and 
round,  till  sight  and  brain  are  dizzy  alike  ?  You  shall 
not  find,  in  painting  or  sculpture,  any  showing  forth 
of  waltz  or  polka  as  Nature's  expression  of  joy  and 
motion.  But  what  Greek  vase  or  tablet,  what  glowing 
canvas  of  Giorgione,  or  Veronese,  but  might  be  glad 
to  catch  the  rhythmic  swing  of  the  "  Tempest,"  as 
the  long  line  wavers  to  and  fro,  and  the  bold  dancers 
in  the  middle  sweep  down  the  hall  and  back  again, — 
to  catch  and  fix  it  in  immortal  lines  of  carving  or  of 
colour  ? 

"  Gents  choose  partners  for  '  Pop  goes  the 
Weasel ! ' " 

There  had  been  an  intermission,  during  which  the 
hall  had  hummed  like  a  hive  of  vari-coloured  bees. 
People  were  thoroughly  at  ease  now,  and  speech 
flowed  freely,  as  the  couples  promenaded  up  and 
down. 

"  A  festive  occasion,  truly,  Mr.  Bumpus ! "  said 
Miss  Selina  Leaf,  with  gentle  dignity. 

"Bustin'!  bustin'!"  replied  Mr.  Bumpus,  with 
effusion.  "  Have  n't  seen  such  goin's  on  in  the 
village,  J  d'no  when  !  Does  a  person  good  to  limber 
out  the  j'ints  once  in  a  while ;  dancin's  better  than 
bar's  grease  any  day  in  the  week  !  Haw !  haw ! " 


58  BETHESDA  POOL. 

Miss  Selina  considered  this  remark  vulgar,  and 
bridled  gently,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  Surprisin'  thing,  too,"  Mr.  Bumpus  went  on. 
"  Bethesdy  Pool  —  now,  you  'd  ha'  said  her  dancin'  days 
were  over,  if  anyone  had  ha'  asked  you,  would  n't 
you, —  same  as  yours  and  mine?" 

Miss  Selina  winced  again,  and  looked  toward  a  seat, 
but  the  bold  Bumpus  went  on,  unconscious. 

"We'd  ha'  said  that,  surely, —  you  and  me;  yet 
there  she  is,  looking  most  as  young  as  the  girls,  I 
do  maintain.  Don't  know  as  there  's  any  manner  of 
use  in  gettin'  old  before  you  're  obleegcd  ter ;  never 
enj'yed  a  '  Lady  of  the  Lake '  more  than  I  did  that 
one  with  you,  ma'am.  What 's  that  ?  '  Pop  goes  the 
Weasel  ?'  Now  you  don't  mean  to  say  !  Why,  I  haint 
danced  '  Pop  goes  the  Weasel ! '  since  my  Maria  was  a 
baby,  and  look  at  her  dancin'  it  with  her  husband ! 
Reckon  I  must  look  up  my  woman  and  dance  this 
with  her,  or  she  '11  be  castin'  up  at  you,  Miss  Selina ; 
so  if  you  '11  excuse  me  !  —  "  and  the  good  man  bustled 
off,  leaving  Miss  Selina  rigid  with  indignation. 

"  Pop  goes  the  Weasel ! "  It  was  an  old  dance,  and 
had  not  been  seen  in  the  village  for  years.  Indeed, 
many  of  the  lads  and  lasses  had  never  seen  it,  and 
looked  about  them  at  a  loss,  as  the  lively  strains  struck 
up,  notes  whose  shrill  gayety  made  even  the  "  Tem 
pest"  seem  quiet  by  comparison.  But  the  older  men 


BETHESDA   POOL.  59 

and  women  cast  glances  at  each  other,  half-shy,  half- 
pleased.  This  was  renewing  old  times  with  a  ven 
geance  !  Many  a  husband  followed  the  example  of 
Israel  Bumpus,  and  led  out  the  choice  of  his  youth, 
flattering  himself  that  she  "  stood  it  as  well  as  any  of 
'em,"  while  mature  spinsters  settled  themselves  elab 
orately  in  their  seats,  with  an  air  of  never  having 
heard  of  the  old-fashioned  dance, —  unless  some  one 
came  to  ask  them  for  it,  in  which  case  memory 
became  suddenly  refreshed,  and  they  stood  up  with 
right  good-will. 

Now  it  happened  that  in  happier  days  this  had 
been  the  favourite  dance  of  Miss  Bethesda  Pool,  and 
that  her  favourite  partner  in  it  had  been  Buckstone 
Bradford.  She  could  not  keep  back  a  start  when  the 
well-known  air  was  played  with  all  its  old  fire ;  and 
for  the  life  of  her,  it  seemed,  she  could  not  help  look 
ing  across  the  hall  at  Buckstone,  where  he  stood,  lean 
ing  stiffly  against  the  wall.  He  was  looking  at  her, 
of  course :  somehow,  she  knew  he  would  be.  Their 
eyes  met ;  and  perhaps  neither  of  them  knew  exactly 
what  happened  next.  Before  Mr.  Bradford  had  time 
to  collect  his  thoughts,  he  found  himself  bowing  his 
stiff  back  before  Bethesda  Pool.  "  My  dance,  I 
believe !  "  he  said,  shortly ;  and  though  Miss  Bethesda 
knew  it  was  nothing  of  the  kind,  she  could  not  find 
breath  to  say  so.  She  looked  up,  she  looked  down ; 


60  BET1IESDA   POOL. 

and  the  next  moment,  to  the  amazement  of  everybody, 
the  two  old  sweethearts  took  their  places  at  the  head 
of  the  line. 

Now  Will  Newell  had  been  growing  uneasy  during 
the  last  half-hour.  He  had  hardly  had  a  chance  to 
speak  to  Nan,  yet  had  managed  to  make  her  under 
stand  that  all  was  ready,  and  that  when  he  gave  the 
word  she  was  to  take  her  life  in  her  hand  and  fly  with 
him.  But  when  could  he  give  the  word  ?  Bradford's 
eyes  had  hardly  left  his  daughter's  figure  all  the  even 
ing;  he  followed  her  up  and  down  the  lines  of 
dancers,  frowning  heavily  if  Will  happened  to  be  near 
her  in  the  dance,  stolidly  content  if  her  neighbour 
were  young  Jacob  Flynt.  What  was  Will  to  do? 
The  horse  would  be  getting  uneasy,  and  the  moon 
would  be  setting  before  long.  He  must  get  rid 
of  old  Bradford,  somehow ! 

Suddenly,  hardly  able  to  believe  his  eyes,  he  saw 
his  tormentor  fairly  turn  his  back  on  Nan :  saw  him 
cross  the  room,  saw  him  bend  before  Miss  Bethesda, 
saw  him  standing  up  to  dance.  Now !  now  was  the 
chance !  In  an  instant  Will  had  forced  his  way  be 
fore  Jacob  Flynt,  who  was  just  about  to  lead  Nan  out 
for  the  dance.  "  You  're  engaged  to  me  for  this,  you 
know,  Nan,"  said  this  unblushing  young  fellow ;  and 
he  drew  her  arm  under  his  with  a  quick,  masterful 
gesture.  "But — but — but  she  promised  me!"  cried 
poor  Jacob,  who  stammered  a  little. 


UETHESDA   POOL.  61 

"  Oh,  go  to  Tinkham ! "  said  Will,  alluding  dis 
respectfully  to  the  next  township ;  and  he  led  off  his 
trembling  Nan  in  triumph. 

"  All  around  the  cobbler's  shop 

The  monkey  chased  the  weasel; 
That's  the  way  the  money  goes, — 
Pop !  goes  the  weasel ! " 

The  fiddle-says  "  Pop !  "  as  plainly  as  the  ridiculous 
doggerel ;  and  at  the  word,  two  of  the  three  who  have 
been  swinging  round  together  lift  their  arms,  and  the 
third  goes  "jjop!"  under  and  rises  to  confront  the  next 
couple :  more  tiptoe  swaying,  balancing  to  this  one, 
chassez-ing  to  that  one ;  then  three  hands  round,  and 
11  pop!"  goes  the  weasel  again;  and  so  on  down  the 
whole  room,  in  the  prettiest,  merriest,  most  enchant 
ing  dance  of  them  all.  But  this  is  engrossing,  I 
would  have  you  know.  When  one  is  popping  every 
third  minute,  and  balancing  and  swinging  during  the 
other  two,  it  is  difficult,  it  is  impossible,  to  keep  a 
sharp  lookout  on  two  persons  who  are  popping  at  the 
other  end  of  the  dance.  Half  of  Buckstone  Brad 
ford,  the  wrorst  half,  was  having  a  sad  time  of  it, 
trying  to  see  over  his  shoulder  and  behind  his  back ; 
but  the  other  half,  the  one  that  had  asked  Miss 
Bethesda  to  dance,  ah !  that  half  was  enjoying  itself 
as  it  had  not  done  for  years.  How  she  danced  !  as  pat 


62  BETHESDA   POOL. 

to  the  music  as  fiddle  to  bow !  How  small  her  hand 
looked,  just  as  it  used  to  look,  lying  in  his  big  brown 
palm !  How  —  now,  where  in  time  were  those  pesky 
young  ones  ? 

For  lo!  a  thing  had  happened.  At  the  last  tri 
umphant  "pop!"  of  the  weasel,  there  had  been 
another  pop  through  the  little  door  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  hall;  and  by  this  time,  Miss  Bcthesda 
calculated,  Will  and  Nan  must  have  reached  the 
foot  of  the  back  stairs,  and  be  flying  across  the 
kitchen  on  their  way  to  the  outer  door  and  safety. 
She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  turned  to  her  companion, 
trying  to  keep  the  light  of  triumph  out  of  her  eyes. 
Bradford  had  stopped  short,  setting  the  dancers  all 
astray;  he  looked  around  the  room,  seeking  the 
delinquents;  his  heavy  brows  met,  his  face  grew 
scarlet.  Yes,  Miss  Bethesda  knew  he  would  be  proper 
mad !  But  now  he  turned,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on 
her  with  relentless  scrutiny;  another  moment,  and 
with  a  roar  like  a  wild  animal,  he  darted  in  pursuit. 

The  fiddler,  who  had  learned  more  things  than 
fiddling  from  old  De  Arthenay,  put  out  his  foot, 
hoping  to  trip  up  the  angry  man;  but,  heavy  as  he 
was,  Bradford  leaped  aside  like  a  deer,  and  the  next 
instant  he  was  in  the  outer  hall,  and  Bethesda  Pool 
after  him. 

"Buckstone,"  she  cried,  "wait  just  a  minute,  and 
I '11  tell  you!" 


BETHESDA   POOL.  63 

But  he  turned  on  her  savagely. 

"I'll  see  to  you  afterwards,  Bethesda  Pool!"  he 
cried,  furiously.  "You  won't  make  me  lose  time, 
I  can  tell  you !  Think  I  don't  remember  the  old 
short  cut?  Stand  out  of  the  way,  or  I  shall  do  ye 
a  hurt,  and  I  don't  want  to  do  that!" 

"Buckstone!"  cried  Miss  Bethesda  again;  hut 
this  time  the  big  man,  without  another  word,  lifted 
her  away  from  the  doorway  in  which  she  had  placed 
herself,  and  rushed  on. 

"  He  's  forgotten,"  said  Miss  Bethesda  to  herself ; 
"he  's  forgotten,  and  I  didn't  tell  him.  He  might — 
she  caught  her  breath,  for  there  came  the  sound  of 
a  crash,  and  then  a  heavy  fall.  "Lord,  forgive  me!" 
she  cried.  "  He  's  found  it,  sure  enough,  and  like  t' 
ha'  killed  himself." 

"It"  meant  the  old  trap-door  in  the  room  that 
was  formerly  used  by  the  Freemasons.  Many  and 
many  a  time  had  she  and  Buckstone  explored  it  in 
childish  days,  and  played  prisoner  under  it,  and 
come  up  through  it  in  all  manner  of  costume  and 
disguise;  He  ought  to  have  known  the  room  as 
well  as  he  knew  his  own  hand.  Was  it  her  fault 
that  he  had  forgotten,  in  his  blind  rage?  But — but 
she  had  seen  him  rush  into  the  room,  and  she  had 
not  warned  him. 

"Buckstone,  be  you  hurt?"  she  cried,  leaning  over 


64  BETUESDA   POOL. 

the  dark  hole  in  the  floor.  She  listened,  and  heard 
strange  sounds  from  below, — grunts  and  groans, 
mingled  with  unscriptural  language. 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  "I  knew  'twas  n't  deep 
enough  to  hurt  him  real  bad,"  she  said.  "Provided 
he  can  cuss,  I  guess  he 's  all  right." 

She  listened  again,  inclining  her  ear  this  time 
toward  the  outer  door,  and  she  heard  the  clear  jingle 
of  sleigh-bells  and  the  swish  of  a  sleigh,  as  it  swept 
out  of  the  yard  and  away  over  the  snowy  road. 
Again  Miss  Bethesda  breathed  deep.  "  That 's  a  good 
hearin',"  she  murmured;  "but  I  am  sorry  for 
Buckstone ! 

"Be  you  hurt?"  she  asked  again,  bending  once 
more  over  the  hole. 

"  I  '11  let  you  know  whether  I  'm  hurt  or  not ! " 
muttered  Buckstone  from  below.  "Once  let  me 
get  out  of  this,  and  I  '11  be  even  with  you,  Bethesda 
Pool ! " 

"  Will ! "  said  Miss  Bethesda,  in  her  calmest  tone. 
"  Well,  I  must  be  going,  Mr.  Bradford.  I  '11  send  Iry 
to  help  you  out.  I  am  surprised,  though,  at  you 
forgettin',  after  as  many  times  as  you  've  ben  down 
that  hole ! " 

Mr.  Bradford's  reply  did  little  credit  to  him  as 
a  church-member,  and  Miss  Bethesda,  after  calling 
her  man  and  giving  him  certain  directions,  returned 
to  her  guests  in  the  dancing-hall. 


13ET1IESDA   POOL.  65 

People  were  looking  for  her  with  some  curiosity. 
The  news  of  Will's  departure  with  Nan  had  spread, 
and  when  they  saw  Buckstone  Bradford  rush  from 
the  room,  followed  closely  by  their  hostess,  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  suppressed  excitement,  but  no  one 
dared  to  follow;  you  might  take  liberties  with  some 
folks,  but  Bethcsda  Pool  was  not  one  of  them.  And, 
after  all,  she  and  Buck  Bradford  knew  each  other 
like  two  old  shoes,  if  they  had  n't  spoken  for  fifteen 
years;  and  what  they  —  the  guests — were  here  for 
was  a  good  time,  so  when  the  fiddler  struck  up  the 
"Chorus  Jig,"  most  of  the  dancers  took  the  floor, 
leaving  only  a  few  of  the  most  curious  to  watch 
the  door,  and  speculate  what  was  going  on  behind  it. 
But  now  the  little  door  opened,  and  here  was  Miss 
Pool  again,  calm  and  unruffled,  folding  her  mitted 
hands,  and  looking  as  if  she  had  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing  as  a  runaway  couple. 

"Why,  Bethesdy!"  said  Mrs.  Minchin,  taking  the 
freedom  of  an  old  schoolmate,  "  we  thought  you  was 
lost,  for  sure,  goin'  off  with  Mr.  Bradford  that  way ! " 

"  Did !  "  replied  Miss  Bethesda.  "  Please  take  your 
partners  to  go  down  to  supper ! " 

The  guests,  with  one  exception,  were  gone.  The 
lights  were  out  in  the  long  ballroom,  and  the  old 
clock  resumed  its  solitary  sway,  thankful  that  the  noisy 


66  BETHESDA   POOL. 

scraping  of  the  fiddle  was  over.  As  Miss  Bcthesda 
closed  the  door  behind  her  the  clock  struck  two,  and 
softly,  timidly,  stole  forth  the  notes  of  the  fairy  waltz, 
as  elves,  waiting  for  their  forest  revels,  might  steal 
from  their  hiding-places  when  the  clumsy  foot  of  man 
has  ceased  to  echo  in  their  sacred  green  places.  "  La- 
la-la,  la-lira-la  ! "  and  who  could  tell  what  gentle  ghosts 
were  now  gliding  forward  in  the  dance  ? 

But  Miss  Bethesda  never  thought  of  ghosts.  She 
had  to  lay  a  spirit,  it  was  true,  but  there  was  little  of 
ghostly  about  it. 

Perhaps  she  felt  some  trepidation  at  the  thought  of 
what  was  before  her,  and  as  she  listened  to  Iry's 
muttered  words  concerning  the  mental  status  of  the 
one  guest  remaining  in  the  Inn.  But  she  gave  no 
sign,  only  told  Iry  to  go  to  bed,  and  leave  his  door 
open,  in  case  she  should  want  to  call  him. 

She  took  a  tray,  and  covering  it  with  one  of  her 
finest  napkins,  proceeded  to  lay  out  a  dainty  supper, 
such  as  she  well  knew  how  to  prepare.  What  had 
Buckstone  liked  best,  in  the  old  times  ?  She  guessed 
a  little  of  that  lobster  salad  would  be  about  right,  and 
half-a-dozen  rolls,  feathery  and  unsubstantial  as  baked 
morning  cloud  ;  then  a  whip,  — he  always  liked  a  tall 
whip,  with  raspberry  jam  at  the  bottom!  and  a  slice  of 
plum-cake,  and, —  well,  a  glass  of  cherry-brandy  might 
do  no  harm,  if  they  ivere  both  temperance  folks. 


BETHESDA   POOL.  67 

He  'd  be  some  tired,  likely,  raging  and  routing  round 
the  way  he  had  been,  from  what  Iry  said.  And  so 
Miss  Bethesda,  like  the  bold  woman  she  was,  unlocked 
the  sitting-room  door,  and  entered  the  lion's  den. 

She  expected  a  rush,  and  held  her  tray  firmly;  but 
no  rush  came.  The  lion  was  sitting  huddled  up  in  a 
great  chair,  with  his  foot  on  another  chair  before  him. 
At  first  Miss  Bethesda  thought  he  was  asleep;  but 
catching  the  sombre  glare  of  his  dark  eyes,  she  set 
the  tray  down  carefully,  and  faced  her  guest  with 
folded  hands  and  apparent  composure. 

"How  are  you  feeling,  Mr.  Bradford?"  she  asked, 
seeing,  with  some  compunction,  how  pale  he  was. 

"  My  leg  is  broke  ! "  was  the  grim  reply,  "  and  I  'm 
injured  some  inside,  most  probably  bleeding;  but  other 
wise  I  'm  well,  Miss  Pool,  and  much  obleeged  to  you  !  " 

"  You  're  welcome ! "  said  Bethesda,  with  a  flash ; 
and  then  she  went  down  on  her  knees,  and  manipu 
lated  him  skilfully. 

"  Your  leg  is  n't  broke  ! "  she  announced,  cheerfully ; 
"but  you  have  got  a  leetle  sprain  into  your  ankle, 
Buck,  —  I  should  say  Mr.  Bradford, —  and  it's  some 
considerable  swoll  up.  You  'd  better  let  me  bathe  it 
for  ye,  and  then  have  a  bit  of  supper,  and  then  you 
can  lay  right  down  on  the  1'unge  here,  and  rest  ye 
till  morning.  You  '11  be  all  right  by  then,  I  calc'late, 
and  able  to  git  you  home, — with  a  stick ! " 


68  BETHESDA   POOL. 

The  last  thrust  was  pure  malice,  and  the  big  man 
winced;  but  not  altogether  at  thought  of  the  stick 
or  the  sprained  ankle. 

"  I  've  got  no  home,"  he  said ;  "  thanks  to  you, 
Bethesda  Pool !  You  've  seen  that  my  girl  got  off 
safe  with  that  good-for-nothin'  feller,  and  that 's  the 
last  of  any  home  for  me !  I  hope  it 's  done  ye  good ! " 

"It  has  so!"  replied  Miss  Bethesda,  rubbing  the 
ankle  briskly  with  her  favourite  liniment.  "  A  sight 
o'  good  it 's  done  me,  Mr.  Bradford,  and  I  hope  't  will 
do  you  good,  too,  some  day !  " 

"  May  I  ask,"  Buckstonc  continued,  grimly,  glow 
ering  down  on  the  little  woman,  as  she  knelt  beside 
him,  "  why  you  felt  called  to  make  or  meddle  in  my 
affairs,  Miss  Bethesda  Pool  ?  " 

"You  may!"  said  Miss  Bethesda,  looking  up 
with  fire  in  her  eye.  "  Your  girl,  pretty  creetur, 
come  cryin'  to  me  the  other  day,  and  told  me  all 
about  how  you  was  treating  her,  Buckstone  Bradford  ; 
and  't  was  a  shame,  and  you  know  it  was !  There  's 
nothing  in  this  world  against  Will  Newell,  well  you 
know !  He 's  a  church-member,  and  he 's  well 
thought  of  by  all  that 's  acquainted  with  him.  You 
didn't  like  his  father,  because  you  thought  I,— 
because  you  thought  things  about  him  that  there  was 
no  occasion  for  thinking,  and  he  killed  in  the  war 
afterwards  and  all ;  and  that 's  all  the  reason,  save 


BETHESDA   POOL.  69 

and  except  that  you  are  a  greedy  grab-all,  Buckstone 
Bradford,  and  don't  want  your  girl  to  do  anything  all 
her  days  'cept  wait  on  you !  That 's  the  living  truth, 
and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do !  Hurt  ye,  did  I  ? 
Well,  I  'm  sorry  for  that,  but  if  I  could  hurt  your  mind 
instead  of  your  ankle,  I  should  be  pleased  to  death! 
I  can  speak  when  I  've  a  mind  to,  if  they  do  call  me  a 
dummy ;  and  I  'm  speaking  to  you  now,  Buckstone, 
and  don't  you  forget  it !  You  've  been  acting  mean 
and  selfish  and  greedy,  and  every  right-thinking 
person  in  this  village  is  disgusted  with  you,  clean 
through  to  the  ground !  So,  now !  And  I  helped 
them  children  off  for  pure  pleasure,  so  I  did,  and  for 
love  of  seeing  young  things  happy,  if  I  aint  ben 
happy  myself!  Not  that  that's  here  or  there.  I 
planned  this  party  for  it,  and  laid  out  consid'able 
money,  and  set  every  tongue  in  the  village  clacking 
till  they  e'enamost  dropped  off,  and  a  mighty  good 
thing,  too,  if  they  had !  and  I  sent  for  Will  Newell, 
and  showed  him  where  he  could  hitch  his  hoss,  and 
how  he  could  git  his  girl  off  the  quickest  and  the 
safest.  You  was  pretty  spry,  Buckstone,  but  you 
would  n't  ha'  caught  'em,  even  if  you  had  n't — if  you 
hadn't  have  fell  down  the  Tumplety  Hole.  And  — 
and  that 's  what  I  did,  and  glad  clean  through  to  my 
back-comb  that  I  done  it,  and  would  do  it  again  the 
fust  time  I  got  a  chance ! " 


70  BETHESDA    POOL. 

Miss  Bethesda  paused  for  breath,  and  bound  up  the 
lame  ankle,  wrapping  it  in  fold  on  fold  of  cool  linen. 
She  expected  thunders  of  reply,  but  Buckstone  Brad 
ford  was  silent. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  the  coals 
tinkled  in  the  grate  and  the  frost  cracked  and  snapped 
outside. 

At  length, — "The  Tumplety  Hole!"  he  said,  mu 
singly.  "  Y&s,  that  was  it !  I  wras  trying  to  think 
what  we  used  to  call  it,  and  I  could  n't  bring  the 
name  to  mind.  The  Tumplety  Hole,  sure  enough ! 
And  you  come  up  through  it,  one  day,  dressed  in  a 
white  gown  with  silver  trimmin's, — 

"  That  I  found  in  the  old  trunk  up  garret ! "  put  in 
Miss  Bethesda. 

"And  flowers  in  your  hair!"  Bradford  went  on. 
"  I  thought  you  looked  the  slickest  of  anything  I  ever 
saw,  then,  Bethesda;  and — well,  I  don't  know  but  I 
think  so  still." 

"  Foolishness ! "  said  Miss  Bethesda,  rising  and 
wiping  her  hands.  "  Have  a  bit  o'  supper,  now, 
Buckstone,  do!" 

"No,  I  couldn't  eat,"  said  the  big  man,  drawing 
his  hand  slowly  across  his  brow.  "  I  could  n't  eat 
your  victuals,  Bethesda,  and  have  you  thinkin'  of 
me  the  way  you — you  said.  It's  all  true,  it  seems 
born  in  on  me  to  feel.  I've  done  a  good  bit  o' 


BETHESDA   POOL.  71 

thinkin',  sittin'  here  alone.  I  never  realized  it 
before,  but  the  fact  seems  to  be  that  I've  been  a 
hog,  and  bein'  so,  I  can't  sit  down  with  no  lady 
and  cat  her  victuals,  you  see." 

"Foolishness!"  said  Miss  Bethesda  again,  looking 
rather  discomposed.  "You  mustn't  think  too  much  of 
what  I  said,  Buckstone.  Mebbe  I  spoke  too  hash  — 

"Oh,  you  spoke  out!"  said  the  man.  "Needn't 
ever  anybody  tell  me  that  Bethesda  Pool  can't  open 
her  head.  When  them  waters  is  troubled,  there's 
no  mistake  about  their  movin' ;  I  knowed  that 
before.  You  spoke  out  once  before  to  me,  Bethesda, 
and  the  sound  of  it  stays  with  me  yet.  There !  I 
guess  I'll  be  goin'.  You  said  you'd  lend  me  a 
stick,  did  ye?" 

"Good  Isick!"  cried  Miss  Bethesda,  standing  up 
to  bar  his  way,  in  real  distress.  "Buckstone,  you 
can't  go  out  in  this  cold  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
and  with  your  ankle  that  way.  You'll  ketch  your 
death.  Stop  where  you  be,  like  a  sensible  man, 
and  have  some  supper  with  me!" 

"S'pose  I  do  ketch  my  death!"  said  Buckstone; 
"aint  no  one  to  care,  that  I  know  of.  Nan's  gone, 
and  there's  no  one  else,  is  there,  Bethesda?" 

"  Good  Isick ! "  cried  Miss  Bethesda  again,  and 
wrung  her  hands  in  sheer  desperation.  Whither 
were  they  drifting  ? 


72  BETHESDA    POOL. 

"  If  I  thought—  '  Buckstonc  Bradford  was  speak 
ing  again,  slowly  this  time,  the  anger  clean  gone 
out  of  him,  but  with  an  earnestness  that  shook  his 
deep  voice,  and  made  the  brave  little  woman  before 
him  tremble,  and  her  cheek  flush  as  it  had  not 
done  for  many  a  day  — 

"  If  I  thought  there  was  anyone  that  cared  what 
become  of  me;  if  I  thought  there  was  anyone  that 
was  willing  to  let  bygones  be  bygones,  seeing 
that  I  've  cared  for  that  person  all  my  life,  since 
—  since  first  we  knew  there  was  a  Tumplety  Hole 
in  that  room ;  if  I  thought  there  was  anyone  who 
knew  she  could  fetch  out  all  the  good  there  was 
in  me, — in  old  "  Gruff  and  Grum," — and  that  knew 
best  of  anyone  how  much  good  there  was  to  be 
fetched  —  why — if  there  was  any  such  person,  I'd 
sit  down  to  that  table  the  proudest  man  in  the 
wide  world,  and  the  happiest!  But — but — I  don't 
suppose  there  is,  do  you,  Bethesda  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  gracious  land  of  deliverance ! "  cried 
Miss  Bethesda,  fairly  beside  herself.  "I — I — don't 
know  as  there  is,  Buckstone,  and  —  and  yet — I  don't 
know  but  there  is!  But  do,  for  gracious  sake,  sit 
down,  whatever  way  it  is,  and  eat  your  supper  like 
a  Christian  man !  " 

And  Buckstone  sat  down. 

THE    END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


WAR  1  8 1957 


Form  L9-50m-ll,'50 (2554)444 


THE  LIBRAKY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


Richards  - 
Jim  of  Hellas. 


PS 

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jfj(      000136860    4 


